PUBLIC  SPEAKING  AND  READING 


A   TREATISE  ON  DELIVERY 


ACCORDING  TO  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  THE  NE\V 
ELOCUTION 


BY 

E.  N.  KIRBY,  A.B. 


FORMERLY  INSTRUCTOR    IN   ELOCUTION   IN   HARVARD    UNIVERSITY   AND   PROFESSOR 
OF  ELOCUTION   AND   ORATORY   IN   BOSTON   UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,    LEE  &   SHEPARD   CO. 


fwl 


\_- 
COPYRIGHT,  1895,  BY  LBB  AND  SHBPARD 

All  Rights  Reserved 

PUBLIC   SPEAKING 


TYPOGRAPHY   BY   C.   J.    PKTBRS   *   SON,   BOSTON. 


PREFACE 


THE  principles  of  this  treatise  are  in  accord  with  what 
may  reasonably  be  called  the  "  New  Elocution."  The  terra 
"  New  Elocution  "  describes,  in  the  first  place,  the  style  of 
delivery  in  vogue  among  the  representative  speakers  of  to- 
day, and  in  the  second  place,  the  method  employed  by  the 
best  teachers  of  the  subject.  The  style  of  delivery,  espe- 
cially since  the  oratory  of  Wendell  Phillips  and  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  has  been  conversational  at  basis;  that  is,  it  has 
been  simple,  direct,  varied,  and  spontaneous.  The  new 
method  of  teaching  lays  stress  mainly  upon  mental  condi- 
tions. It  recognizes  more  fully  that  man  is  mind  as  well 
as  body ;  and  it  aims  at  making  the  speaker  skilful,  by  at- 
tending to  the  mental,  as  well  as  the  physical  and  vocal 
conditions. 

Again,  contrary  to  the  usual  methods,  I  have  taken  up 
Delivery  from  the  rhetorician's  point  of  view,  and  have 
developed  it  according  to  the  principles  of  accepted  psy- 
chology ;  while  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  the  practical 
requirements  of  the  subject  have  been  kept  in  view.  These 
features,  together  with  the  doctrine  of  the  conversational 
basis,  make  the  method  pre-eminently  a  natural  one. 

Without  attempting  to  give  a  full  account  in  this  place  of 
the  distinguishing  features  of  the  book,  the  author  calls 
special  attention  to  Book  II.,  Chapter  i.,  on  "The  Mental 
Content  of  Language." 

While  the  book  will  greatly  benefit  any  student,  it  by  no 
means  supplants  the  teacher ;  for  without  thorough  practice 
and  study,  very  few  persons  are  able  to  accurately  inspect 

844345 


8  PREFACE 

their  own  effort.  Then,  too,  the  ability  to  diagnose  one's 
own  or  another's  needs  is  comparable  to  the  physician's 
skill,  and  is  gained  only  by  prolonged  practice  in  teaching. 
Moreover,  to  secure  the  best  results,  a  teacher  to  illustrate 
and  exemplify  the  principles  will  be  necessary. 

This  treatise  is  adapted  to  the  laboratory  method  of 
instruction.  The  student  is  taught  the  principles  of  the 
art,  the  instruments  and  elements  are  named,  the  problems 
are  set,  and  he  is  required  to  experiment  for  himself  under 
the  eye  and  ear  of  the  teacher;  he  is  then  shown  wherein 
he  fails  or  succeeds.  Only  as  the  individual  is  reached 
can  instruction  be  made  effective;  and  each  teacher  as 
well  as  student  will,  soon  or  late,  find  out  how  farcical,  with- 
out supplementary  practice  given  to  the  individual,  is  the 
attempt  to  treat  large  classes. 

While  presenting  the  principles,  training  for  physical  and 
vocal  development  should  be  given  from  the  start.  Each 
teacher  must  determine  for  himself,  however,  the  pedagogi- 
cal order  of  the  instruction. 

This  book  is  the  result  of  much  study,  and  considerable 
experience  in  teaching  in  High  Schools,  in  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, and  in  Boston  University. 

The  author  sends  it  out  in  the  belief  that  it  will  help 
many  teachers,  and  will  aid  in  the  promotion  of  good  speak- 
ing. It  will  be  found  best  adapted  to  colleges  and  prepara- 
tory schools. 

Although  there  is  very  little  in  this  book  directly  attribu- 
table to  my  former  teachers,  with  pleasure  I  acknowledge 
my  indebtedness  to  the  late  Dean  Monroe  as  a  leader  in 
the  New  Elocution,  and  as  the  first  teacher  to  show  me  the 
importance  of  affecting  the  mental  conditions.  Wherever 
due,  I  have  given  special  credit  in  the  body  of  the  book. 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  7, 1895. 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 


PAG* 

PREFACE     3 

INTRODUCTION 13 

Speaking  Distinguished  from  Reading 14 

Public  Speaking  is  Conversational  at  Basis 16 

Predominant  and  Subordinate  Processes 17 

The  Main  Problem 17 

The  Lesser  Problem 20 

Individuality 21 


PART   I 

Principles  of  Public  Speaking 

BOOK  I 
ESSENTIALS  OF  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 

ER 

I.    Clearness 27 

Force 28 

Elegance 29 

BOOK   II 
SOURCES  OF  THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 

I.    Mental  Content  of  Language 34 

SEC.    I.  ATTENTION 37 

II.  ANALYSIS 38 

1.  Meaning  as  a  whole 39 

2.  Logical  Relations 40 

3.  Meaning  of  the  Words 41 

4.  New  Idea 41 

5.  Ellipses 42 

6.  Imagination 43 

7.  Associated  Ideas  ...           44 

8.  Emotions 45 

9 


10  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

II.    Earnestness 50 

III.  Physical  Vitality 54 

IV.  Control 56 

V.    Reserved  Force 62 

Specialization  of  Function 63 

VI.    Conversational  Basis 65 

VII.   The  Audience 68 

1.  Communicative  Attitude 70 

2.  Deferential  Attitude 71 

VIII.    Good- Will 72 

IX.    Variety 74 

BOOK  III 
ELEMENTS  OF  THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 

I.    Elements  of  Clearness 76 

SEC.  I.  ENUNCIATION 76 

1.  Syllabication 76 

2.  Accent 77 

3.  Vowel  Moulding 77 

4.  English  Vowels 78 

5.  English  Consonants 79 

II.  EMPHASIS 80 

III.  PHRASING,  ok  GROUPING      . 82 

IV.  TRANSITION 83 

II.    Elements  of  Force 86 

SEC.  I.   A  GOOD  VOICE 86 

1.  Strength 86 

2.  Flexibility 87 

3.  Purity  of  Tone 87 

4.  Range  of  Pitch 87 

5.  Resonance 88 

6.  Vocal  Defects 91 

7.  Vocal  Development 92 

SBC.  II.  KINDS  OF  VOICE 99 

1.  Voice  of  Pure  Tone 99 

2.  Full  Voice 100 

3.  Aspirate  Voice 100 

4.  Guttural  Voice 100 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS  II 

PTER  FAGM 

II.  Elements  of  Force  —  Continued 

KINDS  CLASSIFIED 100 

1.  Intellective  Voice 100 

2.  Vital  Voice 101 

3.  Affectional  Voice .  101 

.     .     III.   INFLECTION 103 

IV.   RHYTHM 106 

V.   MELODY  OF  SPEECH no 

VI.  STRESS 112 

.       .           VII.    LOUDNESS 113 

VIII.  TIME  OR  RATE 113 

IX.   CLIMAX 114 

X.  IMITATIVE  MODULATION 115 

XI.   GESTURE 116 

Subjective  Gesture 118 

Picture-Making  Gesture 119 

Laws  of  Gesture 119 

Praxis 121 

Criteria 124-130 

III.    Elements  of  Elegance 131 

SEC.  I.   HARMONY  OF  FUNCTION 131 

II.  PRONUNCIATION 132 

III.  AGREEABLE  VOICE  . 135 

IV.  STRONG  AND  GRACEFUL  MOVEMENTS  ....  135 

i.  Physical  Development 135 


PART    II 
Praxis  in  Delivery 

ANALYSIS  OF  A  SPEECH 140 

TYPES  OF  DELIVERY 145 


INDEX  TO   SELECTIONS 

Antony's  Oration Shakespeare    ....  140 

White  Horse  Hill Thomas  Hughes  ...  146 

The  May  Pole  of  Merry  Mount  .     .     .    Nathaniel  Hawthorne    .  148 


12  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


Await  the  Issue Thos.  Carlyle  ....  150 

National  Bankruptcy Mirabeau 151 

Brutus  and  Cassius Shakespeare     ....  153 

Brutus,  Cassius,  and  Casca      ....  Shakespeare     .      .      .      .  155 

Paul  Revere's  Ride Longfellow 158 

An  Order  for  a  Picture Alice  Gary 161 

Skill  and  Beauty  in  Art John  Ritskin     ....  165 

The  Boston  Massacre Geo.  Bancroft  ....  166 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  Part  I Washington  Irving   .     .  170 

«         Part  II "               "        .     .  172 

Tom  Pinch's  Journey  to  London    .      .      .  Charles  Dickens   ...  177 

The  Cloud P.  B.  Shelley  ....  179 

Public  Dishonesty H.  IV.  Beecher     ...  182 

Eloquence Daniel  Webster    ...  184 

The  Orator's  Art John  Quincy  Adams .      .  185 

From  Henry  V Shakespeare     ....  186 

Herv6  Riel,  Part  I Robert  Browning  .     .     .  186 

"          "      Part  II "            "           ...  189 

Hamlet's  Advice  to  the  Players    .     .     .  Shakespeare     ....  191 

Othello's  Defence Shakespeare     ....  192 

The  Scholar  in  a  Republic      ....  Wendell  Phillips  .     .     .  194 

The  Problem  of  the  New  South  .     .     .  H.  W.  Grady       .     .     .  197 

The  Scholar  in  Politics G.  W.  Curtis  .     .     .     .  200 

Hyder  Ali's  Revenge Burke 201 

Havelock's  Highlanders W.  Brock 204 


PUBLIC   SPEAKING 


INTRODUCTION 

PUBLIC  SPEAKING  is  the  art  of  efficient  public  communica- 
tion by  spoken  and  gesticular  language.1  Reading  and  reci- 
tation, in  short,  all  kinds  of  delivery,  before  few  or  many,  are 
included  under  this  term.  The  subject  includes  all  that  is 
now  taught  as  rhetoric  and  delivery.  Anciently,  as  is  indi- 
cated by  the  Greek  word  pTJrwp,  meaning  speaker,  Rhetoric 
was  identical  with  Public  Speaking.  "  Aristotle,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Hill,  "  makes  the  very  essence  of  rhetoric  to  lie  in 
the  distinct  recognition  of  an  audience." 

This  treatise  deals  with  the  fundamental  processes  of 
Public  Speaking,  and  especially  with  those  involved  in  the 
act  of  Delivery.  It  assumes  familiarity  with  the  technique 
of  what  is  now  taught  as  rhetoric.  Those  who  lack  this 
assumed  familiarity  are  referred  to  books  on  rhetoric  for 
such  topics  as  the  Choice  and  Use  of  Words,  the  Doctrine 
of  the  Sentence  and  the  Paragraph,  Figures  of  Speech,  Dif- 
ferent kinds  of  Composition,  Style,  and  other  topics  con- 
nected with  Composition. 

Extensive  Knowledge,  a  Reliable  Memory,  Logical  Skill, 
and  Tact,  utilizing  common-sense  and  a  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature  by  means  of  which  the  speaker  adapts  the 
speech  and  its  delivery  to  a  particular  audience,  are  among 
the  sources  of  power  in  Public  Speaking. 

But  as  these  topics  belong  more  to  the  preparation  than  to 
the  delivery  of  the  speech,  they  are  dismissed  from  consid- 
eration in  this  book. 

i  See  Principles  of  Rhetoric,  by  A.  S.  Hill,  p.  i. 
13 


14  INTRODUCTION 

The  related  sciences  of  Grammar,  Logic,  ^Esthetics,  and 
Ethics-  contribute  their  laws  to  the  art.  Hence  the  confu- 
sion of  those 'who  speak  of  the  subject  as  a  science. 

As  the  subject  is  an  art,  it  has  skill  as  its  aim ;  and  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end,  in  this  attempt  to  methodize  in- 
struction in  Public  Speaking,  this  aim  is  kept  before  the 
student;  and  a  distinct  effort  made  to  render  him  skilful 
in  commanding  the  principles  to  which,  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, effective  speaking  must  always  conform.  Ac- 
cordingly, instead  of  the  hopeless  method  of  prescribing 
innumerable  rules  impossible  of  application,  this  treatise 
aims  to  thoroughly  analyze  the  sources  and  elements  of  the 
essentials  of  the  art,  and  to  exhibit  the  leading  excellences 
that  must  be  cultivated  in  contrast  with  the  faults  that  are 
to  be  corrected. 

The  art  of  making  a  speech  involves,  usually,  the  process 
of  reproducing  a  set  of  ideas  upon  some  subject.  If  there 
has  been  previous  reflection  upon  a  subject,  whether  the 
discourse  has  been  written  or  not,  it  is,  in  its  delivery,  a  re- 
production. But  effective  reproduction  is  creative,  and  not 
mechanical.  Moreover,  discourse  created  or  re-created  at 
the  point  of  delivery  is  extemporaneous.  Hence,  in  the 
praxis  of  written  or  printed  selections,  since  creation  or 
recreation  as  a  central  and  essential  idea  is  strenuously 
insisted  on,  the  discipline  of  this  work  qualifies  for  the 
delivery  of  either  written  or  unwritten  matter. 


SPEAKING   DISTINGUISHED   FROM   READING. 

To  further  distinguish  the  properties  of  delivery,  it  is 
important  to  recognize  the  wide  difference  between  reading 
and  speaking.  Listening  to  the  delivery  of  a  person  who  is 
out  of  sight,  you  can  ordinarily  determine  whether  he  is 
reading  (that  is,  delivering  from  manuscript  or  the  printed 
page)  or  speaking  (that  is,  composing  in  the  act  of  delivery). 


INTRODUCTION  15 

Without  being  able  to  analyze  the  difference,  any  one  can 
also  distinguish  between  the  delivery  in  the  ordinary  reading 
of  a  newspaper  or  book,  and  that  of  ordinary  conversation ; 
this,  too,  when  the  style  of  the  composition  does  not  betray 
the  difference  ;  for  it  can  be  determined  by  the  tones,  even 
when  the  words  and  sentences  are  not  distinguishable. 
What,  then,  constitutes  the  difference  between  these  two 
styles  of  delivery? 

In  reading,  the  delivery  is  more  uniform.  The  pitch, 
the  degree  of  force,  the  length  and  place  of  the  pauses, 
vary  but  little.  It  is  popularly  called  "  monotonous,"  "  inex- 
pressive ; "  and  where  great  force  or  loudness  is  employed 
this  delivery  is  characterized  as  "  declamatory,"  "  heavy," 
"noisy,"  as  "spouting,"  "preaching."  A  single  word, 
then,  variety,  describes  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
conversational  or  speaking  delivery.  In  speaking,  the  pitch, 
the  kind  of  voice,  the  rate,  the  pause,  and  all  other  elements 
of  delivery,  are  continually  changing.  It  has  the  variability 
of  life. 

The  ground  of  this  variability  is  the  way  the  mind  acts. 
In  reading,  there  is  little  differentiation  of  the  thoughts  : 
the  emotion  is  unvaried.  It  is  indeed,  mainly,  the  emotion 
connected  with  a  kind  of  chant,  and  closely  associated  with 
the  sense  of  rhythm.  In  this  form  of  expression  the  mind 
is  less  alert,  and  it  runs  along  "  the  line  of  the  least  resist- 
ance." 

On  the  other  hand,  in  conversation  we  have  the  original 
function,  and  also  the  very  essence  of  all  language.  As 
spoken  language  precedes  written  language,  so  also  the 
delivery  of  the  unwritten  word  precedes  the  delivery  of 
the  written  word.  Moreover,  the  function  of  language  is  a 
social  one,  and  hence  presupposes  one  mind  communicating 
with  another,  —  indeed,  one  person  thinking  with  another  ; 
for  in  real  conversation,  thought  and  word  are  one.  In 
conversation,  the  expression  is  more  spontaneous,  more 


l6  INTRODUCTION 

direct.  The  sub-processes  (that  is,  the  processes  producing 
voice  and  gesture)  are  held  in  their  subordinate  places. 
Mind  appears  to  act  more  immediately  upon  mind  without 
being  conscious  of  the  media  of  communication.  The 
thought  and  feeling  are  created  in  the  act  of  delivery. 

With  that  other  use  of  the  word  "  reading,"  meaning  the 
expressional  delivery  of  what  another  has  composed,  we 
are  not  at  present  concerned.  Our  purpose  is  rather  to  con- 
trast reading  with  speaking;  and  to  show  that  the  former  is 
mechanical,  and  the  latter  creative,  or  expressive,  delivery. 

This  distinction  between  reading  and  speaking  is  the 
popular  one.  The  majority  of  people  dislike  sermons  that 
are  read  in  contrast  to  those  that  are  spoken.  In  this 
treatise,  "speaking"  includes  the  delivery  of  all  forms  of 
written  or  unwritten  matter  that  creates  the  thought  in 
the  act  of  delivery. 

"  Reading "  (that  is,  word-delivery  or  statistical  represen- 
tation of  facts),  requires  only  distinct  enunciation  of  words, 
and,  hence,  expressional  discipline  is  unnecessary.  The 
purpose  of  all  elocutionary  practice  aims  at  speaking  as  its 
legitimate  goal. 

PUBLIC  SPEAKING  is  CONVERSATIONAL  AT  BASIS. 

According  to  this  analysis,  speaking,  conversation,  and 
extemporaneous  delivery,  are  essentially  the  same.  Each 
has  the  same  property  of  variety.  In  each  the  mind  acts 
with  the  same  spontaneity  and  directness.  Each,  too, 
creates  or  re-creates  the  ideas  at  the  point  of  delivery.  As 
distinguished  from  these,  Public  Speaking,  according  to  the 
most  approved  delivery,  may  be  further  characterized  as 
the  heightened  conversational.  At  basis  it  is  simple,  direct, 
spontaneous,  varied,  creative  ;  but  heightened  in  pitch,  force, 
and  in  the  other  elements,  as  determined  by  the  emotional 
content  of  the  discourse.  Corresponding  to  this,  it  is  to 
be  observed  that  "  declamatory,"  or  "  orotund,"  delivery  is 


INTRODUCTION  I/ 

heightened  reading.     This  form  of  reading-delivery  also  is 
to  be  avoided. 

PREDOMINANT  AND  SUBORDINATE  PROCESSES. 

One  of  the  difficulties  in  Public  Speaking  arises  from  the 
great  number  and  variety  of  the  processes.  Some  of  these 
processes  are  predominant,  and  others  are  subordinate. 
Now,  in  all  speaking,  good  or  bad,  the  predominant  pro- 
cesses are  the  ones  that  express  themselves.  Hence  the 
importance  of  making  the  ideas  to  be  communicated  the 
predominant  processes,  and  the  means  to  this  end  the  sub- 
ordinate ones.  Frequently,  however,  through  lack  of  skill, 
the  processes  that  should  be  subordinate  become  predomi- 
nant ones.  The  speaker  obviously  puzzles  over  the  gram- 
mar, the  rhetoric,  or  the  gesture  of  his  address.  At  one  time 
the  speaker  gives  his  main  effort  to  discerning  the  words  of 
his  manuscript ;  at  another  (as  in  memoriter  delivery)  he  is 
absorbed  in  the  labor  of  recalling  the  language.  Instead, 
all  of  those  operations  of  mind  and  body  that  may  be 
regarded  as  means,  are  to  be  held  in  their  places  as  sub- 
processes.  The  thought  and  feeling,  together  with  the 
volitional  attitude  which  the  speaker  intends  to  produce  in 
the  mind  of  the  hearer,  are  always  to  be  regarded  as  the 
predominant  process  ;  and  hence  should  form  the  leading 
content  of  the  speaker's  mind. 

THE  MAIN  PROBLEM. 

The  main  problem  before  the  student  is  to  secure  the 
right  mental  action.  When  this  is  done,  the  body  responds. 

First,  the  thought  and  feeling  intended  as  the  predominant 
process,  and  constituting  the  speech  proper,  or  the  matter  of 
the  address,  is  clearly,  from  beginning  to  end,  the  result  of 
mental  activity.  This  mastery  of  the  ideas  of  the  discourse 
constitutes  the  primary  aspect  of  the  Main  Problem. 

In  the  second  place,  voice  and  its  various  modifications, 


1 8  INTRODUCTION 

gesture  —  in  short,  the  use  of  all  of  the  instruments  or 
means  of  communication  constituting  the  subordinate  pro- 
cesses, or  the  manner  of  the  address,  vaguely  regarded  by 
some  as  physical  changes,  are  also  the  result  of  mental 
activity.  We  mean  to  say,  in  brief,  that  no  one  can  produce 
a  sound,  or  change  a  pitch,  or  make  a  gesture,  without  the 
action  of  the  mind.  The  proper  use  of  the  voice  and  other 
agents  of  expression  depends,  therefore,  upon  right  mental 
action,  as  fully  as  does  the  mastery  of  the  ideas.  Such 
proper  use  of  the  means  constitutes  the  secondary  aspect  of 
the  Main  Problem. 

For  the  solution  of  this  Main  Problem,  both  the  subjective 
and  the  objective  treatment  are  employed.  The  subjective 
treatment  deals  directly  with  the  content  of  the  mind ;  that 
is,  with  the  thought  and  feeling. 

The  thought  and  feeling  are  analyzed  and  dwelt  upon. 
Related  ideas  are  brought  forward ;  and  thus,  by  dealing 
with  the  factors  of  the  mind  directly,  we  seek  to  promote 
right  mental  action  with  reference  to  the  subject-matter  and 
its  expression.  This  treatment  is  more  fully  developed 
under  the  chapter  on  "The  Content  of  Language." 

In  the  objective  treatment,  however,  we  call  attention  to 
the  agents  (the  chest,  the  mouth,  the  hands,  etc.),  and  to  the 
elements  (emphasis,  pitch,  etc.),  expressive  of  the  thought 
and  feeling. 

The  objective  treatment  is  based  upon  the  fact  that  bodily 
states  affect  mental  states  ;  hence,  by  assuming  the  physical 
attitude,  the  corresponding  mental  state  is  initiated  and  pro- 
moted. We  not  only  entreat  the  angry  man  not  be  angry, 
but  also  coax  him  to  sit  down  and  not  speak  so  loudly ;  that 
is,  to  assume  the  act  and  attitude  of  composure.  Practically, 
an  emotion  and  its  expression  are  one  and  the  same  thing. 
The  emotion  of  the  sublime,  for  instance,  is  developed  by 
assuming  the  low  pitch,  measured  time,  and  approximate 
monotone  expressive  of  this  emotion,  This  treatment, 


INTRODUCTION  IQ 

reaching  the  mind  by  calling  attention  to  the  physical  states, 
is  the  shorthand  method  of  every-day  life.  Just  as  the 
child  is  told  to  "  quit  whining,"  and  to  "  straighten  out "  his 
face,  so  also,  in  elocutionary  training,  we  say,  "  Speak 
louder,"  "  Pause  more  frequently,"  "  Speak  on  a  lower 
pitch." 

The  objective  treatment,  therefore,  promotes  not  only  the 
proper  use  of  the  agents  and  elements  of  expression,  but 
also  a  mastery  of  the  subject-matter,  or  the  ideas  in  process 
of  delivery.  For  instance,  the  intention  to  lift  the  voice  to 
a  higher  pitch  with  increased  ictus,  as  a  means  of  rendering 
it  emphatic,  makes  that  word  prominent,  and  hence  em- 
phatic in  the  mind.  The  mind,  in  turn,  reacts  upon  the 
voice,  and  promotes  that  intention.  The  effect  is  reciprocal. 
Thus  it  is  seen  that  the  subjective  and  objective  treatment 
are  the  two  ways  of  promoting  right  mental  action. 

The  discipline  here  recommended  develops  the  power  to 
think  at  the  point  of  delivery,  or  to  think  through  delivery, 
and  also  to  master  the  technique  or  to  use  the  instruments 
of  Expression. 

At  the  risk  of  being  tedious  to  some,  we  will  further  illus- 
trate the  subjective  and  objective  treatment. 

"The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof;  the 
world,  and  they  that  dwell  therein." 

The  subjective  treatment  of  this  sentence  requires  that 
the  student  understand  the  history  of  the  psalm  of  which  it 
forms  a  part,  the  occasion  and  method  of  its  use  as  an  an- 
tiphonal  psalm  in  the  temple  service ;  dwell  upon  each  word ; 
analyze  the  thought ;  especially,  develop  the  emotional  con- 
tent of  the  sentence.  The  feeling  is  one  of  majesty,  of  tri- 
umph, and  splendidly  sublime.  Notice,  according  to  the 
method  of  Hebrew  poetry,  that  the  second  clause  repeats 
the  idea  of  the  first,  and  hence  is  not  differentiated  as  a 
new  thought.  In  short,  apply  the  method  of  the  chapter 
on  "The  Content  of  Language." 


2O  INTRODUCTION 

In  reading  this  psalm,  if  the  student  find  himself  delivering 
it  on  a  high  pitch,  with  metallic  ring  and  rapid  rate,  the 
objective  treatment  orders  him  to  use  a  lower  pitch,  to  slow 
rate,  full  tone,  full  major  slides,  and  with  due  observance 
of  the  rhythm. 

A  too  exclusive  use  of  the  objective  treatment  is  a  feature 
of  the  old  elocution,  and  runs  into  the  mechanical. 

THE  LESSER  PROBLEM. 

The  lesser  problem  before  the  student  is  to  modify  or 
remove  bodily  limitations.  Obviously,  some  limitations  are 
only  partially,  and  others  not  at  all  removable.  It  is  as- 
sumed, however,  that  the  most  important  organs  are  modi- 
fiable, and  that  especially  their  functions  may  be  rendered 
more  full,  economic,  and  accurate.  Faulty  breathing  may 
be  corrected,  the  chest  capacity  developed,  vocal  quality 
improved,  the  bearing  and  movement  rendered  strong,  grace- 
ful, and  free  —  in  short,  all  the  organs  of  speech  and  gesture 
may  be  developed,  and  the  channels  cleared  for  the  prompt, 
accurate,  and  full  expression  of  the  mental  states. 

In  exercises  for  physical  and  vocal  development,  the 
organs,  as  such,  are  dealt  with.  Even  in  such  exercise,  how- 
ever, the  feelings  and  imagination  are  utilized ;  and  as  bodily 
limitations  are  oftenest  functional,  the  main  and  the  lesser 
problems  nearly  merge  into  the  one  problem  of  disciplining 
the  mind's  action.  Moreover,  in  this  technical  training  on 
special  non-expressive  exercises  for  physical  and  vocal  de- 
velopment, from  the  very  beginning,  the  expressional  use  of 
the  organs  is  anticipated. 

The  principles  of  Public  Speaking  can  be  realized  only  in 
use ;  and  to  point  out  the  specific  excellences  and  faults  of 
any  delivery  requires  the  skill  of  an  experienced  practitioner. 
Hence  the  teacher  becomes  a  trainer,  enabling  the  pupil  to 
accomplish  what,  in  all  probability,  he  never  would  accom- 
plish alone. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

INDIVIDUALITY. 

In  the  practical  pursuit  of  the  subject,  the  question  of  in- 
dividuality, or  personality,  arises.  The  method  here  offered, 
dealing  as  it  does  with  general  principles,  and  directing  the 
main  effort  to  realize  the  thought  in  the  act  of  delivery,  in- 
stead of  prescribing  absolute  and  arbitrary  forms,  ought  to 
be  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  individuality,  or  personality, 
will  have  all  the  freedom  it  can  reasonably  claim. 

It  is  to  be  conceded  that  all  good  speakers  do  not  speak 
alike.  On  the  other  hand,  every  one  needs  to  remove,  as  far 
as  possible,  vocal  and  bodily  limitations  •  to  suppress  glaring 
mannerisms  ;  to  develop  versatility  and  responsiveness  to 
thought  and  feeling  outside  of  the  individual  habits.  Moods 
of  the  individual  that  impede  the  realization  of  the  thought 
and  feeling  of  the  subject  must  be  subordinated  or  practi- 
cally eliminated,  and  a  broader  capacity  developed.  To 
mention  a  specific  and  marked  case,  a  person  of  an  over- 
serious  mood  must  develop  the  possibility  of  other  moods. 
Again,  a  speaker  who  conceives  an  idea  merely  as  fact  must 
also  realize  it  as  an  emotion. 

Development  in  expressional  power  is  always  in  the  direc- 
tion of  emotional  mastery.  That  which  is  narrow,  accidental, 
and  limited,  must  give  place  to  the  varied  and  universal. 
The  difference  among  speakers  is  attributable  to  the  different 
ways  of  realizing  the  thought,  or  what  amounts  to  the  same 
thing,  the  different  way  the  thought  affects  each  emotionally. 
Take  the  following  sentence  for  an  illustration  :  — 

"  All  in  the  valley  of  death 
Rode  the  six  hundred." 

This  may  be  conceived  merely  as  a  fact :  there  were  six 
hundred  men  in  this  charge  here  described.  There  may 
have  been  a  few  more  or  less,  or  possibly  just  six  hundred. 
They  all  without  exception  rode  forward  at  the  command. 


22  INTRODUCTION 

The  enemy  were  in  front,  to  right  and  left — a  valley;  and, 
as  we  know,  it  was  death  to  most  of  them. 

Again,  this  may  be  conceived  as  fact  that  affects  the 
speaker  emotionally.  The  leading  emotion  may  be  that  of 
horror  at  the  thought  of  these  soldiers,  because  of  a  blunder, 
marching  to  almost  inevitable  death.  In  this  conception 
the  word  "  all  "  has  more  than  statistical  value.  It  shows 
the  extent  of  the  doom.  "  Valley  of  Death  "  now  takes  on 
a  more  sombre  color.  It  is  not  merely  a  historic  fact,  but 
a  present  reality.  Imagination  reproduces  the  scene.  The 
"valley"  and  "riders,"  with  "cannon  in  front,"  "to  right" 
and  "  left,"  volleying  and  thundering,  are  in  sight. 

Still  another  conception  may  arouse  feelings  of  admiration 
and  heroism  as  we  see  the  splendid  discipline  and  bravery 
of  these  men.  This  conception  will  emotionally  affect  all  of 
the  subordinate  ideas.  The  words,  "  all,"  "  valley  of  death," 
and  so  all  the  rest,  which  have  much  in  common,  are  changed 
from  the  first  conception.  These,  and  possibly  other  con- 
ceptions, may  be  combined.  Moreover,  in  any  conception 
that  intends  to  reproduce  the  thought  of  another,  the  variety 
of  lights  and  shades  and  crossings  of  emotions  are  almost 
endless. 

Again,  the  character,  the  culture  of  the  individual,  not 
to  mention  his  peculiarities,  will  contribute  an  important 
element.  No  two  minds  reproduce  the  same  thought  in 
the  same  way.  No  speaker  reproduces  his  own  ideas  in  the 
same  way. 

It  is  just  this  difference  in  conception  that  gives  largest 
opportunity  to  individuality  or  personality.  Not  only  men- 
tal quality,  but  the  nervous  system  and  physical  conditions, 
are  a  part  of  the  matter.  I  have  found  frequently  that  some 
mannerism,  which  was  the  result  of  nervous  conditions,  or 
which  was  capriciously  or  possibly  accidentally  adopted,  was 
as  tenaciously  held  to  as  the  most  sacred  attribute  of  person- 
ality. We  must  distinguish  between  peculiarity  and  per- 


INTRODUCTION  23 

sonality.  Things  of  habit,  good  or  bad,  are  dear  to  us. 
The  student  of  speaking  should  be  sane.  In  fact,  the 
nervous  state  and  dominating  moods  frequently  render  it 
impossible  for  the  speaker  to  fully  realize  other  emotions. 
To  such  an  one  it  must  be  said,  "  Ye  must  be  born  again  !  " 
All,  to  some  extent,  need  such  regeneration.  Like  all 
educational  growth,  it  is  a  process,  and  hence  requires  dis- 
cipline under  intelligent  direction.  Elocution  treated  on 
this  basis  is  of  the  highest  value  as  a  means  of  culture. 
In  spite,  however,  of  the  rational  and  practical  method 
of  treatment,  the  teacher  frequently  appears  to  invade  the 
personality  of  the  speaker;  hence,  in  drill,  it  will  require 
care  on  the  part  of  the  teacher,  and  patience  on  the  part 
of  the  student. 


PART     I 
PRINCIPLES    OF    PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


BOOK  I 

ESSENTIALS   OF    PUBLIC   SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   I 

CLEARNESS,  FORCE,  AND  ELEGANCE 

WHILE  listening  to  speakers  for  the  purpose  of  determin- 
ing their  respective  effectiveness,  judges  find  it  necessary  to 
consider  the  delivery  with  reference  to  at  least  three  things, 
—  intelligibility,  or  ease,  with  which  the  speaker  makes 
himself  understood;  the  ability  of  the  speaker  to  interest 
and  move  the  listener;  and  the  ease  and  gracefulness  of 
the  delivery,  especially  with  reference  to  the  bearing  and 
gesture.  Although  not  always  so  clearly  analyzed  by  every 
one,  these  are  the  qualities  that  make  speaking  effective 
to  all  listeners. 

These  three  groups  of  properties,  under  the  names  of 
Clearness,  Force,  and  Elegance,  are  regarded  by  teachers  of 
rhetoric  as  the  essential  properties  of  style ;  and  in  keep- 
ing with  the  rhetorical  spirit,  these  terms  are  used  to  repre- 
sent the  essential  properties  of  delivery. 

Clearness.  —  One  of  the  principal  aims  of  public  speak- 
ing is  to  give  information.  This  aim  addresses  the  under- 
standing and  satisfies  the  demand  of  the  intellect.  The 
group  of  properties  by  means  of  which  information  is  com- 
municated is  called  "  clearness."  Professor  Bain  describes 
it  as  "opposed  to  obscurity,  vagueness,  ambiguity,  or  ill- 

27 


28  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

defined  boundaries."1  Prof.  A.  S.  Hill  says,  "It  is  not 
enough  to  use  language  that  may  be  understood,  he  [a 
writer  or  speaker]  should  use  language  that  must  be  under- 
stood," and  quotes  Quintilian  and  Emerson  to  the  same 
effect.2 

In  Public  Speaking,  clearness  means  more  than  the 
choice  of  words  and  sentences  for  this  purpose.  The 
clearest  style  of  a  Newman  may  be  rendered  obscure  in 
the  delivery. 

By  the  use  of  proper  enunciation,  varied  pitch,  pause,  em- 
phasis, and  other  elements  of  speech,  the  speaker  must  ren- 
der the  thought  so  clear  to  the  ear  that  the  listener  cannot 
fail  to  understand  at  once  the  purposed  idea. 

If,  for  purposes  of  information,  a  speaker  aims  only  at  the 
bare  statement  of  facts,  as  in  rendering  judicial  opinions,  in 
the  technical  treatment  of  scientific  subjects,  and  in  reading 
news  items,  the  speaking,  if  it  is  clear,  answers  every  de- 
mand.8 It  is  seldom,  however,  that  a  speech  is  limited  to 
this  single  purpose. 

Force.  —  The  second  of  the  leading  aims  of  speaking, 
and  especially  of  oratory,  is  persuasion.  Persuasion  affects 
the  will  principally  through  the  emotions.  The  group  of 
qualities,  by  means  of  which  the  emotions  are  stirred  and 
the  will  affected,  is  variously  called  "vivacity,"  "energy," 
"strength,"  "force."  The  term  "force,"  as  we  have  seen, 
is  now  more  generally  used. 

While  the  tendency  is  toward  a  factive  simplicity  in  Public 
Speaking,  and  especially  toward  a  suppression  of  excessive 
emotion  and  sentimental  adornment,  so  long  as  man  is 
capable  of  poetry,  and  is  susceptible  of  aesthetic  influences, 
a  speech  must  have  certain  emotional  qualities.  Conditions 
may  modify  the  emotions,  but  can  never  obliterate  them. 

1  English  Composition  and  Rhetoric.     Bain,  p.  48. 

2  Principles  of  Rhetoric,  by  A.  S.  Hill,  p.  65. 
8  A.  S.  Hill's  Rhetoric,  p.  84. 


CLEARNESS,    FORCE,    AND    ELEGANCE  2Q 

Force  satisfies  this  demand  of  the  emotions;  and  while 
the  listener  does  not  consciously  attend  to  the  emotional 
states  nor  seek  to  promote  them  as  he  does  an  understand- 
ing of  the  speech,  yet  if  a  speaker  lacks  force,  he  is,  in 
popular  language,  called  "dull,"  "dry,"  "lifeless,"  "inex- 
pressive," "  without  force" 

But  declamation  and  noise  should  not  be  mistaken  for 
Force.  A  blind  struggle  for  this  property  leads  to  just  this 
mistake.  The  softest  tone,  the  gentlest  whisper,  may  be 
more  forceful  than  the  strongest  declamation. 

Silence  is  often  forceful.  A  natural  manner,  a  vivacious, 
but  subdued  and  dignified  delivery,  is  the  most  impressive 
delivery,  and  is  Forceful  in  the  sense  used  in  this  book. 

By  means  of  Force  in  the  Delivery,  the  speaker  first  of 
all  holds  the  attention  of  the  audience ;  the  listener  "  awakes 
the  senses,"  is  alert  and  anticipative.  Beyond  this,  other  emo- 
tions, indeed,  the  whole  range  of  emotions,  may  be  affected. 

Elegance.  —  Public  speaking,  in  the  next  place,  aims  to 
please.  To  give  pleasure  is  a  motive  leading  in  poetry, 
prominent  in  the  essay,  and  not  neglected  in  oratory;  for 
speech  can  persuade  only  as  it  pleases. 

The  group  of  qualities  that  renders  the  discourse  agreea- 
ble, and  that  gives  the  charm  of  language  that  pleases,  is, 
as  we  have  already  said,  called  by  the  rhetoricians,  "ele- 
gance." It  corresponds  to  the  feelings,  and  satisfies  the 
demand  of  the  aesthetic  nature. 

Besides  the  usual  rhetorical  elements  that  appeal  to  taste 
and  imagination,  and  upon  which  the  pleasing  quality  of  the 
speech  is  primarily  based,  elegance  in  delivery  demands  also 
an  agreeable  voice,  strong,  easy  bearing,  graceful  gesture, 
harmony  of  function,  and  correct  pronunciation. 

A  WORKING  SCHEME. 

In  practice,  the  student  still  finds  it  difficult  to  hold  before 
the  subconscious  attention  the  leading  processes  involved 


3<D  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

in  good  speaking.  He  frequently  says,  "  I  lost  sight  of  this 
while  attending  to  the  other."  "  I  find  it  difficult  to  attend 
to  so  many  things."  Hence  some  scheme  of  summarizing 
the  various  sources  and  elements,  especially  for  beginners, 
is  important 

Clearness,  Force,  and  Elegance,  besides  adequately  sum- 
marizing the  properties  of  public  address,  also  serve  as  a 
scheme  to  carry  into  practice  the  various  elements  to  which 
effective  speaking  must  conform.  The  student  should  ac- 
custom himself  to  associate  under  these  heads  the  group  of 
qualities  belonging  to  each,  so  that  they  at  once  schematize 
the  complex  functions,  and  suggest  all  that  is  to  be  done. 

Especially  should  the  five  sources  of  effective  delivery 
be  continually  held  before  the  student.  This  positive  treat- 
ment may  be  alternated  with  criticism  of  special  faults. 
Criticism  should  be  both  general  and  specific.  This  will 
involve  the  elements  as  well  as  the  sources.  The  student 
and  the  speaker  soon  become  accustomed  to  these  cate- 
gories. The  value  of  a  teacher  is  in  proportion  to  his 
ability  to  diagnose  the  student's  needs  and  to  prescribe  a 
remedy. 

The  student  should  thoroughly  commit  each  item  of  the 
scheme.  Its  value  will  be  fully  appreciated  only  after  a  thor- 
ough study  of  the  whole  treatise  and  after  much  practice. 

The  attempt,  however,  to  make  the  speaking  forceful  by 
thinking  too  exclusively  of  force,  results  in  what  is  opprobri- 
ously  called  "dramatic,"  "stagy,"  "bombastic"  delivery; 
while  the  attempt  to  secure  elegance  by  thinking  too  ex- 
clusively of  this  property  results  in  affectation.  These 
faults  are  seen  in  a  great  many  professional  and  amateur 
"readers." 

It  is  otherwise  with  regard  to  Clearness.  If  the  speaker 
give  the  appearance  of  consciously  attending  to  this  qual- 
ity, it  does  not  so  seriously  detract  from  the  effort.  If  the 
audience  find  it  difficult  to  understand  the  thought,  then  a 


CLEARNESS,  FORCE,  AND  ELEGANCE        $1 

statement,  description,  or  illustration  from  a  different  point 
of  view  is  welcomed  ;  and  if  the  voice  is  not  clearly  audible, 
it  seems  to  be  allowable  in  deliberative  assemblies  to  de- 
mand that  the  speaker  "  speak  louder." 


THE   SCHEME. 


A.     SOURCES    OF    CLEARNESS, 
FORCE,  AND  ELEGANCE. 

I.  Physical  Vitality  and  Ear- 
ncstness. 


II .   Control  and  Reserved  Force . 


III.  The  Audience  (Attention  of 
—  Communication);  and 
Good-will  (Sympathy). 


IV.  Mental  Content, —  Thought 
and  Feeling  (Attention). 


V.    Variety  in  Unity , — Differ- 
entiation. 


B.  ELEMENTS   OF   CLEARNESS, 
FORCE,  AND  ELEGANCE. 

I.    Of  Clearness. 

1.  Enunciation       (Syllables, 

Vowels,  Consonants). 

2.  Emphasis. 

3.  Phrasing  or  grouping. 

4.  Transition. 

II.    Of  Force. 

1 .  Strong,  pure,  flexible  tones. 

2.  Appropriate  voice. 

3.  Inflection  (Slides). 

4.  Melody  of  speech. 

5.  Rhythm. 

6.  Loudness. 

7.  Stress. 

8.  Rate. 

9.  Climax. 

10.   Imitative  modulation, 
n.   Gesture. 

III.      Of  Elegance. 

1.  Harmony  of  parts. 

2.  Pronunciation. 


The  main  dependence,  however,  in  each  essential,  is  in 
clearly  conceiving  the  thought,  and  in  fully  realizing  the 
emotions  of  the  subject. 

The  student  who  hopes  to  make  elocution  compensate  for 
brains,  and  his  thought  to  pass  for  more  than  its  intrinsic 


32  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

worth,  and  who  hopes  to  substitute  a  good  voice  and  grace- 
ful gesture  —  the  externals  of  speech  —  for  real  thought  and 
heartfelt  emotion,  will  be  disappointed,  as  he  ought  to  be. 

"  With  the  art  of  all  men  .  .  .  that  of  language,  the  chief 
vices  of  education  have  arisen  from  the  one  great  fallacy 
of  supposing  that  noble  language  is  a  communicable  trick  of 
grammar  and  accent,  instead  of  simply  the  careful  expres- 
sion of  right  thought.  All  the  virtues  of  language  are,  in 
their  roots,  moral  ;  it  becomes  accurate  if  the  speaker  de- 
sires to  be  true  ;  clear,  if  he  speaks  with  sympathy  and  a 
desire  to  be  intelligible ;  powerful,  if  he  has  earnestness ; 
pleasant,  if  he  has  sense  of  rhythm  and  order. 

"There  are  no  other  virtues  of  language  producible  by 
art  than  these  ;  but  let  me  mark  more  deeply  for  an  instant 
the  significance  of  one  of  them.  Language,  I  said,  is  only 
clear  when  it  is  sympathetic.  You  can,  in  truth,  under- 
stand a  man's  word  only  by  understanding  his  temper. 
Your  own  word  is  also  as  of  an  unknown  tongue  to  him 
unless  he  understands  yours.  And  it  is  this  which  makes 
the  art  of  language,  if  any  one  is  to  be  chosen  separately 
from  the  rest,  that  which  is  fittest  for  the  instrument  of  a 
gentleman's  education. 

"  To  teach  the  meaning  of  a  word  thoroughly,  is  to  teach 
the  nature  of  the  spirit  that  coined  it ;  the  secret  of  lan- 
guage is  the  secret  of  sympathy,  and  its  full  charm  is  possi- 
ble only  to  the  gentle.  And  thus  the  principles  of  beautiful 
speech  have  all  been  fixed  by  sincere  and  kindly  speech. 

"  On  the  laws  which  have  been  determined  by  sincerity, 
false  speech,  apparently  beautiful,  may  afterward  be  con- 
structed ;  but  all  such  utterance,  whether  in  oration  or 
poetry,  is  not  only  without  permanent  power,  but  it  is 
destructive  of  the  principles  it  has  usurped.  So  long  as  no 
words  are  uttered  but  in  faithfulness,  so  long  the  art  of  lan- 
guage goes  on  exalting  itself ;  but  the  moment  it  is  shaped 
and  chiselled  on  external  principles,  it  falls  into  frivolity 


CLEARNESS,  FORCE,  AND  ELEGANCE         33 

and  perishes.  .  .  .  No  noble  nor  right  style  was  ever  yet 
founded  but  out  of  a  sincere  heart. 

"  No  man  is  worth  reading  to  form  your  style  who  does 
not  mean  what  he  says ;  nor  was  any  great  style  ever 
invented  but  by  some  man  who  meant  what  he  said.  .  .  . 

"  And  of  yet  greater  importance  is  it  deeply  to  know  that 
every  beauty  possessed  by  the  language  of  a  nation  is  sig- 
nificant of  the  innermost  laws  of  its  being.  Keep  the  tem- 
per of  the  people  stern  and  manly ;  make  their  associations 
grave,  courteous,  and  for  worthy  objects ;  occupy  them  in 
just  deeds,  —  and  their  tongue  must  needs  be  a  grand  one. 
Nor  is  it  possible,  therefore,  .  .  .  that  any  tongue  should  be 
a  noble  one,  of  which  the  words  are  not  so  many  trumpet 
calls  to  action.  All  great  languages  invariably  utter  great 
things  and  command  them ;  they  cannot  be  mimicked  but 
by  obedience ;  the  breath  of  them  is  inspiration,  because  it 
is  not  only  vocal  but  vital ;  and  you  can  only  learn  to  speak 
as  these  men  spoke  by  becoming  what  these  men  were."1 

The  principles  of  Delivery  will  be  further  treated,  (i)  as 
the  SOURCES,  and  (2)  as  the  ELEMENTS,  of  Clearness,  Force, 
and  Elegance  —  the  essentials  of  Public  Speaking.  So  far 
as  I  know,  Professor  Mcllvain,  in  his  excellent  book  on 
"Elocution,"  was  the  first  to  apply  the  terms  "sources  and 
elements  "  to  these  two  aspects  of  Public  Speaking.  The 
former  deals  more  with  the  fundamental  powers  of  mind  and 
body,  the  latter  more  with  the  manifestive  forms  of  Delivery; 
the  former  are  more  subjective,  the  latter,  more  objective. 

l  Ruskin.    Relation  of  Art  to  Morals,  in  Crown  of  Wild  Olives. 


BOOK  II 

SOURCES  OF  THE  ESSENTIALS  OF  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   I 

MENTAL   CONTENT   OF    LANGUAGE 

IT  was  stated  in  the  Introduction  that  the  main  problem 
in  the  art  of  Public  Speaking  is  to  induce  right  mental 
action,  and  that  the  first  part  of  this  problem  is  to  achieve 
the  purposed  thought  and  emotion,  —  the  mental  content  of 
the  language.  To  this  first  part  of  the  problem  this  chapter 
is  devoted. 

Any  notion  that  agreeable  sounds  and  graceful  gestures 
are  in  themselves  effective  in  Public  Speaking  is  to  entirely 
misconceive  the  function  of  language  and  the  purpose  of 
speaking.  Yet  such  misconceptions  are  frequent.  The  sub- 
ject of  delivery  should  be  approached  with  the  distinct 
understanding  that  there  is  no  substitute  for  thought  and 
feeling.  Nor  can  superficial  attainments  be  polished  suffi- 
ciently to  compete  with  thorough  culture.  Indeed,  to  the 
serious  and  patient  student,  nothing  is  so  self-revelatory  of 
one's  mental  and  linguistic  poverty  as  a  thorough  consider- 
ation and  application  of  the  principles  of  Public  Speaking. 
The  student  has  not  done  well  unless  the  subject  has  been 
suggestive,  not  only  in  the  particulars  specifically  treated, 
but  also  in  all  that  constitutes  man. 

Something  more,  however,  than  a  general  suggestion  to 
deal  with  the  thought  of  the  speech  is  needed  to  arouse 
mental  activity  and  accuracy.  It  seems  to  me  that,  as  a 

34 


MENTAL    CONTENT   OF    LANGUAGE  35 

discipline,  nothing  can  surpass  the  conscious  attention  to 
the  processes  that  unconsciously  take  place,  more  or  less 
effectively,  in  all  thinking  and  speaking.  This,  an  original 
contribution  to  elocutionary  study,  is  the  method  of  this 
chapter. 

Words  have  no  absolute  meaning.  In  speaking,  they  may 
be  used  as  so  much  breath  or  sound,  without  any  relation 
to  the  mental  content.  Obviously,  a  speaker  may  learn  to 
pronounce  any  language,  and  utter  pages,  say  of  Greek  or 
Latin,  without  getting  or  giving  a  single  idea.  This  is  also 
true  of  the  use  of  words  of  unknown  meaning  in  the  mother- 
tongue.  Suppose  I  ask  the  average  person  to  speak  the 
following  sentence,  composed  of  words  taken  from  our 
familiar  English  Bible :  "  The  abjects  pill  the  chapman  of 
collops,  fitches,  habergons  and  brigandines"  The  words  may 
be  correctly  pronounced  without  the  speaker  having  any 
idea  of  the  content  of  the  language.  This  is  true,  not  only 
in  the  use  of  words  of  unknown  meaning,  but  is  also  pos- 
sible in  the  use  of  language  commonly  intelligible.  Through 
inattention,  or  other  cause,  the  mind  reacts  upon  the  words 
only  as  signs  of  sounds,  and  not  as  symbols  of  ideas.  This 
use  of  words  without  content  is  common,  too,  in  speech 
disorder,  known  as  aphasia. 

More  common  instances  in  which  the  student  of  speaking 
is  interested  are  the  cases  of  poorly  instructed  children 
learning  to  read.  The  word,  to  the  struggling  child,  is  the 
sign  of  a  sound,  and  so  he  reads  the  sentence,  "  I  see  the 
horse  on  the  hill,"  in  that  characteristic  high-pitched,  mo- 
notonous, over-loud,  and  empty  voice.  Mark  the  contrast 
as  he,  without  book,  in  a  flexible,  life-like  voice,  expresses 
spontaneously  the  idea  out  of  his  own  mind. 

A  similar  use  of  words,  as  sound,  is  heard  in  most  manu- 
script delivery.  The  writer  deals  with  subject  as  ideas  when 
in  the  act  of  writing,  but  in  delivery  reads  the  manuscript  as 
a  matter  of  words,  without  rethinking  or  feeling  again  the 
ideas  of  the  language. 


36  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

The  mental  processes  involved  in  writing  differ  from  those 
involved  in  speaking.  Some  persons  are  able  to  think  only 
at  the  end  of  the  pen,  while  others  can  adequately  express 
their  ideas  only  in  oral  delivery.  There  are  marked  in- 
stances of  each  of  these  classes.  The  difference  is  attribut- 
able to  natural  aptitude  and  to  previous  training.  Hence 
the  necessity  of  oral  practice  by  those  who  speak  from  man- 
uscript. The  time  devoted  to  writing  should  be  balanced 
by  equal  time  given  to  preparation  by  practice  in  oral  de- 
livery. 

Usually,  too,  delivery  from  the  printed  page  is  without 
the  legitimate  and  full  content  of  the  language.  In  short, 
inattention,  lack  of  concentration,  failure  to  appreciate  the 
sentiments  when  using  another's  composition,  or  the  case  of 
giving  leading  attention  to  the  means  of  expression  (the  sub- 
ordinate processes),  always  results  in  the  insufficient  mental 
content. 

Of  course,  the  matter  of  content  is  a  relative  one.  It 
ranges  from  the  zero  of  pronouncing  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
to  the  content  of  an  ideally  perfect  knower  and  revealer. 
Consequently,  the  statement  in  any  given  case,  that  the  de- 
livery is  without  content,  must  be  in  this  relative  sense.  The 
content,  moreover,  from  the  nature  of  mind,  must  vary  in 
each  repetition  of  a  discourse.  But  the  clearness,  force,  and 
elegance  of  the  speaking  is  always  in  proportion  to  the  clear- 
ness and  fulness  of  the  mental  content. 

When  criticised,  the  student  sometimes  objects,  "Why,  I 
am  sure  I  understood  what  I  delivered."  But  as  Hume 
says, "  Thought  is  quick ; "  and  one  must  distinguish  between 
thinking  the  thought  and  feeling  the  emotions  at  the  instant 
of  delivery,  and  the  recollection  of  the  ideas,  as  an  act  of 
memory,  a  moment  later.  In  the  latter  case,  the  words  are 
carried  in  memory,  and  the  ideas  subsequently  read  into 
them.  Again,  the  ideational  process  is  frequently  retro- 
spective, and  thinking,  in  point  of  time,  is  behind  the  voice. 


MENTAL  CONTENT  OF  LANGUAGE         37 

The  voice  is  distinctly  in  advance  of  the  thought.  This 
phenomenon  is  a  matter  of  common  observation.  Besides, 
the  matter,  as  we  have  said,  is  relative,  and  the  speaker  may 
achieve  the  topic  and  some  of  the  leading  ideas  without 
dealing  with  the  full  content. 

The  student  must  also  distinguish  between  dealing  with 
language  for  the  purpose  of  getting  the  idea,  and  of  the  use 
of  it  for  communication.  The  speaker  may  spend  practi- 
cally all  of  his  effort  in  acquiring  the  thought,  and  still  keep 
on  vocalizing.  He  must  communicate  as  well  as  acquire. 

This  fault  of  mere  word-utterance  is  not  unknown  in  what 
is  usually  called  extemporaneous  delivery,  though  it  is  less 
common.  Verbal  fluency,  wordiness,  is  the  form  in  which 
the  fault  is  recognized  in  this  kind  of  delivery.  But  the 
vigor,  the  directness,  the  spontaneity,  and  naturalness,  char- 
acteristic of  extemporaneous  speaking,  are  due  mainly  to  the 
fact  that  in  this  kind  of  delivery  the  speaker  deals  primarily 
with  ideas  and  only  secondarily  with  words.  How,  then, 
can  this  ability  to  deal  primarily  with  ideas  be  cultivated  ? 
This  whole  treatise  is  mainly  an  answer  to  this  question. 
The  direct  way  of  dealing  with  the  problem  is  the  method  of 
the  remainder  of  this  chapter. 

SEC.  I.  Attention.  —  The  first  condition  necessary  to 
the  achievement  of  Content  is  an  effective  functioning  of 
attention.  This  is  sometimes  called  "concentration  of  at- 
tention." 

Confusion  of  utterance,  as  in  fright,  uneasiness  of  mind, 
anger,  etc.,  arises,  not  as  some  suppose,  from  having  noth- 
ing to  say,  but  from  having  too  many  ideas  flitting  through 
the  mind.  So  also  in  speaking,  from  one  cause  or  another, 
excess  of  ideas  insufficiently  focused  in  the  attention  hin- 
ders the  achievement  of  the  proposed  content. 

While  the  speaker  goes  on  uttering  the  "  words,  words, 
words  "  of  his  discourse,  "  wandering  thoughts "  straggle 
into  the  consciousness,  and,  indeed,  at  times  side  trains  of 


38  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

thought,  foreign  to  the  purpose  of  the  speech,  preoccupy 
the  mind.  Ideas  contained  in  the  speech,  ideas  about  its 
success,  about  the  audience,  reputation,  and  many  other 
things,  capriciously  present  themselves. 

Now,  in  voluntary  attention,  sometimes  called  forced  atten- 
tion, we  choose  to  attend  to  certain  objects  and  ideas  to  the 
exclusion  of  others.  It  is  a  matter  of  accepted  psychology 
and  of  common  experience,  that  ideas  are  brought  by  atten- 
tion from  the  obscurer  into  the  more  distinct  fields  of  con- 
sciousness. Attention,  moreover,  involves  not  only  selection, 
but  the  adjustment  of  ideas  in  a  certain  order  of  sequence 
in  order  to  fulfil  the  purpose  of  the  mind.  The  activity  of 
the  mind  may  become  more  and  more  efficient.  Larger  and 
still  larger  content  may  be  apprehended  ;  and  while  con- 
sciousness may  be  narrowed  down  and  rendered  more  defi- 
nite and  precise,  at  the  same  time  a  larger  number  of  details 
are  projected  into  this  unity.  Effective  speaking  depends 
upon  rapid  analysis,  and  this  in  turn  depends  upon  the 
power  of  voluntary  attention. 

Attention  is  controlled,  first  of  all,  by  interest.  We  be- 
come absorbed  only  in  that  which  interests  us.  Again, 
attention  is  controlled  by  inhibition.  Inhibition  is  an  ac- 
tivity of  mind  that  enters  into  the  very  nature  of  attention. 
We  promote  attention  to  the  purposed  ideas  by  voluntarily 
inhibiting  ideas  to  which  we  do  not  wish  to  attend.  The 
practical  value  of  cultivating  the  attention  is  obvious. 

A  suggestion  about  another  aspect  of  attention  will  be 
given  under  the  chapter  on  "  Audience."  We  shall  now 
proceed  to  discuss  analysis. 

SEC.  II.  Analysis.  —  Sustained  practice  in  logical  an- 
alysis, and  its  application  to  the  act  of  speaking,  is  of  prime 
importance.  Attention  is  involved  in  a  most  thorough-going 
way.  The  thought  process  is  one  of  comparison.  Only  that 
which  has  connection  with  other  elements  has  meaning.  An 
idea  to  be  significant  must  point  to  something  beyond  itself. 


MENTAL    CONTENT    OF    LANGUAGE  39 

That  which  is  isolated  and  separated  is  not  capable  of  being 
thought  The  process  involves  (i)  identification  or  recogni- 
tion, (2)  discrimination  or  differentiation,  (3)  construction. 

The  main  thing  it  is  hoped  to  accomplish  in  this  some- 
what meagre  account  of  the  process  of  thinking  is  to  im- 
press upon  the  mind  of  the  student,  first,  the  fact  of  the 
connection  of  ideas  in  the  sentence,  and  secondly,  the  differ- 
entiation of  parts  as  determined  by  the  thought  process.  In 
teaching,  no  suggestion  is  oftener  needed  than  to  "  discrim- 
inate !  discriminate  ! " 

Analysis  may  be  conducted  independent  of  speaking,  and 
form  no  connection  with  it.  In  this  case  it  is  wholly  sub- 
jective, and  consequently  the  utterance  must  be  feeble. 
Persons  accustomed  to  write  their  thought  analyze  best  by 
writing.  This  fact  accounts  for  the  ability  of  some  persons 
to  think  best  with  pen  in  hand,  and  the  inability  of  some 
good  writers  to  speak.  It  is  the  first  business  of  the  stu- 
dent of  speaking  to  train  himself  to  relate  the  analysis  to 
the  delivery.  Impose  the  thinking  on  the  speaking.  Think- 
ing through  the  voice  is  a  characteristic  of  spontaneous 
or  conversational  delivery.  Finally,  speak  the  thought. 
Thought  grows  in  the  act  of  speaking. 

i.  First,  grasp  the  purpose  or  meaning  of  the  address,  selec- 
tion, or  speech  as  a  whole.  The  editorial  title  is  a  convenient 
name  for  identifying  the  selection  or  address,  but  it  is  not 
to  be  relied  upon  for  purposes  of  the  analysis.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  address  gives  you  the  theme  or  subject.  Unite 
the  various  ideas  of  the  address,  if  possible,  under  a  single 
proposition  in  the  categorical  or  declaratory  form.  For 
instance,  the  funeral  oration  of  Mark  Antony,  in  "Julius 
Caesar,"  might  be  put  in  this  form  as  follows  :  "  Brutus  and 
his  associates  are  cruel  assassins."  This  proposition  held 
fairly  in  mind  inspires  and  unifies  the  speech,  and  illumi- 
nates its  plan.  To  conceal  the  subject  to  the  close,  and 
sometimes  to  suppress  its  plain  statement  altogether,  is 


4O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

a  method  frequently  employed  in  orations.  The  treatment 
given  the  speech  as  a  whole  should  be  applied  to  each 
division  or  paragraph  of  the  address. 

2.    Analyze   the  sentence  to  determine  its   logical  relations. 

(1)  Every  sentence  consists  of  two  principal  elements. 
The  first  element  is  that  of  which  something  is  stated ;  the 
second  is  that  which  is  stated  of  the  something.     The  first 
is  the  subject;  the  second  is  the  predicate. 

The  student  should  clearly  distinguish  the  subject  from 
the  predicate,  and  group  with  each  its  respective  modifiers. 

(2)  Reduce  to  the  proper  place  parenthetical  and  other 
subordinate  matter. 

(3)  To  state  anything  of   a  subject  involves  an  act  of 
judgment.     This  is  the  essential  function  of  the  proposition, 
and  is  the  typical  act  of  thinking.    The  judgment  is  the  unit 
of  thought ;  hence  the  value  of  analyzing  the  matter  of  dis- 
course for  the  judgments.     The  method  is  illustrated  in  the 
treatment  of  the  following  paragraph  from  Macaulay's  esti- 
mate of  the  character  of  Charles  the  First :  — 

"  The  advocates  of  Charles,  like  the  advocates  of  other 
malefactors  against  whom  overwhelming  evidence  is  pro- 
duced, generally  decline  all  controversy  about  the  facts, 
and  content  themselves  with  calling  testimony  to  character. 
He  had  so  many  private  virtues !  And  had  James  the  Sec- 
ond no  private  virtues  ? " 

The  judgments  are :  Charles's  advocates  are  like  advo- 
cates of  malefactors  against-whom-overwhelming-evidence 
is  produced.  Advocates  of  malefactors  decline  all  fact- 
controversy.  Advocates  of  malefactors  content  themselves- 
with-calling-testimony  to  character.  The  next  sentence  in 
the  paragraph  is  exclamatory ;  but  it  has  the  force  of  a 
declaration.  Charles  had  many  private  virtues.  Con- 
demned James  the  Second  had  private  virtues.  So,  also,  all 
the  statements  expressed  and  inferred  in  this  and  other 
selections  may  be  put  in  the  form  of  judgments. 


MENTAL    CONTENT   OF   LANGUAGE  4! 

3.  Dwell  on    the    meaning  of  each   word.      Every   clear 
speaker   defines   the    meaning   of   his   words   in   order   to 
determine  their  significance. 

In  the  case  of  nouns,  take  more  than  the  simple  definition 
of  the  dictionary.  Let  it  include  some  of  what  the  logicians 
call  the  attributes  or  qualities.  I  am  sure  rather  smart 
people  will  frequently  find  how  imperfect  is  their  knowledge 
of  words.  Giving  the  qualities  of  the  word  reveals,  more- 
over, the  animus  of  its  use.  Attend  only  to  those  attri- 
butes in  which  the  speaker  is  interested.  Take  that  of 
"  advocates,"  for  instance,  in  the  paragraph  already  used. 
Advocates  are  men  ;  advocates  are  men  with  special  quali- 
fications; advocates  are  men  engaged  to  defend  their 
clients ;  advocates  are  men  prejudiced  in  favor  of  their 
clients  ;  advocates  are  dependent  and  partial  men.  Other 
attributes  may  be  added.  Treat  in  a  similar  way  "  male- 
factors "  and  other  words. 

4.  Analyze  the  sentence  to  determine  the  new  idea.     We  have 
seen  that,  to  be  significant,  the  idea  must  point  to  some- 
thing beyond  itself.     This  fact  is  utilized  in  attending  to 
the   relations   of   one  sentence   to   another.     In  delivering 
a  succession  of  sentences,   since  the  old  idea  has  a  hold 
already  upon  the  thought,  the  new  idea  should  be   made 
most  easily  apprehensible  by  giving  it  greater  prominence. 
Hence,  the  old  as  related  to  the  new  must  be  clearly  thought. 
In  the  second  sentence  of  the  previous  quotation,  the  pro- 
noun  He  [Charles]    is    the   old   idea,   for  it  is  contained 
in  the  preceding  sentence.     It  relates  the  new  idea  of  the 
second  sentence  to  the  old  idea  of  the  preceding  sentence. 
"  Private  virtues  "  is  this  new  idea  of  the  second  sentence. 
In  the  third  sentence,  "  And  had  James  the  Second  no  private 
virtues  ? "  virtues  [the   old   idea]   is  the  term  relating  the 
third  to  the  second  sentence.    James  the  Second  is  the  new 
idea.     So  each  sentence  of  the  composition  has  something 
new,  but  at  the  same  time  something  old,  that  points  to 


42  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

other  sentences.  In  this  manner  the  sentences  of  well- 
constructed  discourses  form  a  chain.  To  determine  the 
new  idea  is  of  prime  importance,  and  well  worth  the  stu- 
dent's most  careful  and  prolonged  attention.  It  contributes 
equally  to  clearness  and  force.  Upon  it  correct  emphasis 
and  all  movement  depend. 

5.  Analyze  the  speech  in  order  to  supply  the  ellipses.  All 
language  is  more  or  less  elliptical;  that  is,  it  omits  words 
necessary  to  a  full  and  complete  expression  of  the  ideas. 
In  good  composition  only  obvious  ideas  are  omitted  ;  these 
are  suggested  by  the  form  of  the  language,  including  punc- 
tuation, by  the  context,  and  by  logical  relation  of  the  parts 
expressed.  Ellipses  are  sometimes  of  a  logical,  and  at  other 
times  of  a  grammatical  nature ;  but  whether  of  one  or 
the  other,  elliptical  expression  economizes  effort.  It  is 
the  shorthand,  the  direct  method  of  speech.  The  unex- 
pressed ideas,  that  is,  the  ideas  between  the  lines,  are  fre- 
quently the  most  important  in  connection  with  the  emo- 
tional content  of  the  speech.  The  time,  pause,  and  pitch 
element  of  delivery  are  immediately  regulated  by  mentally 
supplying  the  ellipses.  Treating  the  same  selection  for 
purposes  of  this  analysis,  the  ellipses  may  be  supplied  in 
brackets.  "The  advocates  of  Charles  [the  First  are,  or 
being]  like  the  advocates  of  other  malefactors,  against 
whom  overwhelming  evidence  is  produced,  generally  decline 
all  controversy  about  the  facts,  and  [although  obviously 
unfair,  they  complacently]  content  themselves  with  calling 
testimony  to  character.  [They  say  that]  He  had  so  many 
private  virtues  !  [Marvellous,  indeed  !  ]  And  had  James 
the  Second  [whom  you  condemn]  no  private  virtues  ?  [You 
answer,  yes.]  Was  Oliver  Cromwell  [whom  you  execrate], 
his  bitterest  enemies  themselves  [and  not  impartial  men] 
being  judges,  destitute  of  private  virtues?  [You  answer, 
no.]"  The  second  paragraph  is  richer  still  in  ellipses. 
Observe,  that,  in  delivery,  pauses  occupy  the  place  of  the 
ellipses  or  omitted  words. 


MENTAL    CONTENT   OF   LANGUAGE  43 

6.  Fill  out  the  content  through  the  imagination.  Through 
the  imagination  we  realize  and  make  specific  the  idea. 
Charles  the  First  is  individualized,  possibly  pictured  to  the 
mind.  "  Advocates "  is  no  longer  a  general  term,  but  a 
specific  and  localized  set  of  men,  possibly  individualized. 

In  the  process,  imagination  uses  the  visual  and  aural 
memory;  that  is,  the  memory  of  things  as  we  have  seen 
them  and  sounds  as  we  have  heard  them.  At  times  the 
memory  of  other  sense-perceptions  also  is  used.  Fre- 
quently there  is  very  little  constructive  activity  of  the  im- 
agination, and  the  mind  simply  reproduces  the  sight,  sound, 
or  other  sense-perception  through  memory.  At  other  times 
the  mind  acts  more  constructively;  this  is  properly  called 
imagination.  Delivery  that  is  graphic,  that  brings  the 
events  before  the  mind  of  the  listener  in  clear  and  specific 
form,  makes  splendid  use  of  the  imagination  or  the  percep- 
tive memory.  For  this  purpose  take  the  following  stanzas 
from  Longfellow's  "  Paul  Revere's  Ride  "  :  — 

"  He  said  to  his  friend,  '  If  the  British  march 
By  land  or  sea  from  the  town  to-night, 
Hang  a  lantern  aloft  in  the  belfry  arch 
Of  the  North  Church  tower  as  a  signal  light,  — 
One,  if  by  land,  and  two,  if  by  sea; 
And  I  on  the  opposite  shore  will  be, 
Ready  to  ride  and  spread  the  alarm 
Through  every  Middlesex  village  and  farm, 
For  the  country  folk  to  be  up  and  to  arm.'  " 

Picture  the  two  men  standing  in  the  street  in  secret  coun- 
sel. See  the  lofty  tower;  see  the  signal  light  —  one,  two; 
see  the  opposite  shore  ;  the  rider  upon  his  horse ;  see  the 
Middlesex  villages  and  farms  wrapped  in  midnight  slumbers  ; 
again,  see  them  stirring  with  life.  The  scene  becomes  defi- 
nite and  vivid,  first  to  speaker,  then  to  listener. 

When  these  objects  are  reproduced  in  the  mind,  motor 
reactions  result,  and  the  eye  and  arms  act  in  gesture  just 


44  PUBLIC   SPEAKING 

as  though  the  real  objects  were  before  the  mind.  By  this 
means  the  story  is  illustrated,  and  thus  made  real  to  the  eye 
of  the  auditor. 

In  a  similar  way  reproduce  the  sounds  imaginatively. 

"  Till  in  the  silence  around  him  he  hears 
The  muster  of  men  at  the  barrack-door, 
The  sound  of  arms,  and  the  tramp  of  feet, 
And  the  measured  tread  of  the  grenadiers 
Marching  down  to  their  boats  on  the  shore." 

The  speaker  imaginatively  hearing  these  sounds  realizes 
more  fully  the  idea,  and  through  his  voice  and  gestures,  the 
mind  of  the  listener  becomes  similarly  affected. 

The  objects  of  the  imagination  are  to  be  regarded  as  a 
series  of  illustrations,  and  not  as  a  bird's-eye  view  of  things ; 
hence  the  same  object  may  be  made  to  appear  in  different 
directions  at  different  times.  The  speaker  should  control 
the  location,  and  place  the  object  where  it  can  best  be  used. 

7.  Analyze  the  language  in  order  to  call  up  the  associated 
ideas.  It  is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge  that  according 
to  certain  laws  of  the  mind,  whenever  certain  ideas  present 
themselves  in  consciousness,  certain  others  are  suggested. 
The  principal  associations  are  as  follows:  (i)  Contiguity. 
Ideas  that  occur  close  together  in  time  or  space  suggest  one 
another;  (2)  ideas  of  similarity  and  contrast;  and  (3)  ideas 
of  cause  and  effect. 

In  the  stanza  last  quoted,  "  silence "  suggests  "  hears " 
[the  muster]  ;  "  muster,"  "  men  ;  "  "  men,"  "  barrack  ;  "  "  bar- 
rack," "door."  "Hears"  further  suggests  "sounds"  [of 
arms],  "tramp"  [of  feet],  "measured  tread;"  "tread," 
"grenadiers,"  etc. 

The  ability  to  look  from  the  printed  page  or  manuscript, 
an  ability  seldom  well  mastered,  is  due,  not  simply  to  a 
sharpening  of  the  eye  gained  by  practice,  but  also  to  the 
confidence  with  which  the  mind  utilizes  the  associational 


MENTAL    CONTENT    OF    LANGUAGE  4$ 

process.  One  word  suggesting  another,  the  eye  more 
readily  seizes  it.  The  process  applies  also  to  clauses  and 
phrases. 

By  means  of  association  the  mind  successively  antici- 
pates the  words  and  phrases  of  the  discourse,  and  so  keeps 
the  thought  ahead  of  the  voice.  These  associated  ideas 
suggested  by  the  leading  idea,  especially  enrich  the  emo- 
tional content,  and,  again,  help  the  mind  to  realize  its 
thought.  The  extent  and  clearness  of  these  ideas  will  de- 
pend upon  the  mental  ability,  discipline,  knowledge,  and 
experience  of  the  individual.  To  the  child,  the  sentence, 
"  The  discovery  of  microbes  is  an  important  event  in  sci- 
ence," means  little  or  nothing.  To  the  scientist  it  suggests, 
possibly,  a  range  of  ideas  from  the  creation  down  to  the  last 
surgical  operation  in  which  he  was  interested.  Such  words 
as  "  flag,"  "  home,"  "  mother,"  are  especially,  rich  in  associa- 
tion. 

The  ideas  associated  with  those  of  the  previously  quoted 
stanza  may  be  those  of  patriotism,  self-sacrifice,  heroism. 
They  suggest  the  mutual  confidence,  personal  daring,  the 
good  sense,  the  secrecy  and  caution  of  the  two  men,  and  a 
whole  train  of  other  ideas  that  grow  out  of  the  time,  place, 
and  other  relations. 

A  study  of  the  times  and  circumstances  out  of  which  a 
speech  grows,  meditations  upon  kindred  themes,  indeed,  any 
broad  study  of  related  matter,  puts  the  student  in  the  spirit 
or  "  atmosphere  "  of  the  speech,  and  aids  him  in  a  more 
comprehensive  and  accurate  understanding  of  it.  This 
fuller  use  of  the  associational  process  employed  by  success- 
ful speakers  is  of  obvious  value.  Such  methods  make  the 
"full  man,"  out  of  which  the  best  speaking  comes. 

8.  Analyze  the  speech  to  find  its  emotion.  The  content  may 
be  further  filled  out  by  developing  the  emotions.  Attend- 
ing to  the  things  of  the  imagination  and  to  the  associated 
ideas,  aids  at  once  in  realizing  the  emotions;  but  the  fol- 


46  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

lowing  treatment  will  be  found  still  further  helpful ;  for  in 
proportion  as  we  realize  the  idea,  we  develop  its  subjective 
or  emotional  side. 

An  idea  not  only  gives  information  concerning  an  event 
or  thing,  but  it  is  also  the  individual's  experience  of  that 
fact  or  event.  Feeling  is  the  subjective  side  of  the  idea. 
For  instance,  the  emotion  of  indignation  arises  in  connec- 
tion with  the  idea  of  an  act  of  injustice. 

(1)  It  is  of  first  importance  to  remember  that  emotions 
are  the  result  of  ideational  activity.     A  great  deal  of  feeble, 
extravagant,  and  insincere  elocution  is  the  result  of  an  at- 
tempt to  express  emotions  that  do  not  grow  out  of  ideas ;  or, 
which  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  the  attempt  to  express 
emotions  that  are  not  felt.     Yet  it  is  just  this  extravagance 
that  is  often  condemned  as  "emotional."     Emotional  de- 
livery is  to  be  condemned  only  when  it  is  excessive,  hol- 
low, or  "theatric."     The  most  chaste  and  simple  delivery 
is  emotional  as  truly  as  is  bombast.     The  orator's  power 
is  primarily  an  emotional  one;  there  can  be  no  effective 
speaking  without  it.     It  is  only  a  question  as  to  what  emo- 
tions shall  be  expressed,  and  the  avoidance  of  the  falsities 
and  excesses  already  indicated. 

(2)  Again,    emotions    grow.     They    gradually    develop, 
reach  their  height,  and  then  subside.     Even  when  the  same 
idea  that  gives  rise  to  an  emotion  continues,  the  emotion 
periodically  grows  and  then  subsides  again.     Grief  is  an 
instance  of  this.     Feelings  or  sense   impressions,  on  the 
other  hand,    are   instantaneous,  even  when  reproduced  in 
the  imagination.     The  emotion  of  anger,  for  example,  de- 
velops through  the   ideas  that  give  rise  to  it;  while  the 
startling  effect  of  an  unexpected  sound  or  sight,  real  or 
imaginary,    is    instantaneous.     The   practical    outcome   of 
this  demands  that  the  speaker  hold  the  idea  till  the  emotions 
are  made  real,  and  that  reproduced  sensations  be  real  and  vivid 
by  concentrated  attention. 


MENTAL    CONTENT    OF    LANGUAGE  47 

No  thoroughly  satisfactory  classification  of  the  emotions 
has  yet  been  made.  Possibly  Wundt's  classification  into 
(i)  Excitant  and  (2)  Inhibitory,  corresponding  to  what 
Professor  Bain  calls  affection  of  the  active  or  plus  side, 
and  the  passive  or  minus  side  of  the  mental  states,  is  as 
serviceable  as  any. 

It  will  not  do  to  insist  too  rigorously  upon  all  emotions 
coming  under  this  classification,  nor  is  the  list  to  be  re- 
garded as  exhaustive. 

Among  the  following  words,  those  coming  after  "  Arro- 
gance "  and  "Anxiety  "  are  not  found  in  Wundt's  list. 

I.   EXCITANT  OR  ACTIVE.  II.   INHIBITORY  OR  PASSIVE. 

Pleasurable  Surprise,  Painful  surprise, 

Joy,  Perplexity, 

Anger,  Sorrow, 

Jollity,  Sadness, 

Frolicsomeness,  Apprehension, 

Rapture,  Depression, 

Courage,  Timidity, 

Rage,  Shame, 

Vexation,  Anguish, 

Admiration,  Terror, 

Enthusiasm,  Horror, 

Ecstasy,  Repugnance, 

Beauty,  Despair, 

Love,  Sublimity, 

Arrogance,  Hatred, 

Ridicule,  Anxiety, 

Esteem,  Reverence, 

Pity,  Submission, 

Tenderness,  Wonder, 

Reproach,  Humility. 
Pride, 
Defiance, 
Surprise  (objective). 

Class  I.  quickens  the  ideation,  the  action  of  the  heart, 
mimetic  and  pantomimic  movements.  The  result  of  Class 


48  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

II.  is  the  reverse.  Consequently  the  effect  of  Class  I.  on 
the  voice  is  to  increase  the  rate,  heighten  the  pitch,  and 
brighten  the  tone  ;  while  the  effect  of  Class  II.  is  to  slow 
down  the  rate,  lower  the  pitch,  and  dull  the  tone. 

The  mind  is  usually  occupied  with  a  complex  of  emo- 
tions. This  fact  must  be  kept  in  mind  in  any  attempt  to 
describe  the  emotional  condition  arising  from  any  set  of 
ideas.  Moods  are  more  lasting  emotional  states.  Emotion 
heightened  by  urgent  desires  is  called  passion. 

A  summary  of  hints  may  be  given  as  follows  :  — 

(1)  Determine  the  prevailing  emotion,  sometimes  called 
the   "  spirit,"  the   "  atmosphere ' '   of  the   speech  ;   that  is, 
whether  it  is  joyous,  patriotic,  or  dominated  by  some  other 
emotion. 

(2)  Note   each  separate  emotion,   naming   it   fear,    per- 
plexity, or  otherwise  as  the  case  may  be. 

(3)  Observe  that  the  emotions  are  often  complex. 

(4)  Let  the  emotion  grow  out  of  the  idea,  and  wait  till 
it  matures. 

(5)  Notice  whether  it  is  of   the  excitant  or  inhibitory 
class. 


What  has  in  this  analysis  been  treated  in  this  successive 
and  lengthy  way  takes  place  simultaneously  and  instantly. 
This  fact  is  a  temptation  to  the  student.  In  practice,  he  will 
be  tempted  to  use  this  complete  process,  rather  than  first 
analyzing  the  several  aspects  of  thinking  as  a  foundation  for 
the  developed  and  full  content.  The  result  will  be  the  usual 
vague  and  undifferentiated  way  of  dealing  with  the  thoughts. 
In  live  thinking  there  is  the  variety  so  necessary  to  hold 
attention  and  induce  alertness.  But  variety  results  only 
from  thought  differentiation.  And  this  is  distinctly  the 
feature  attended  to  in  the  foregoing  treatment.  Indeed, 


MENTAL  CONTENT  OF  LANGUAGE          49 

variety  is  one  of  the  objects  that  the  speaker  must  keep  con- 
stantly before  his  mind,  and  if  the  changes  are  to  be  any- 
thing but  capricious  they  must  grow  out  of  the  thought. 

If  the  method  of  analysis  here  recommended  for  the  pur- 
pose of  developing  the  attention  and  quickening  the  thought- 
activity  may  appear  laborious,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind 
that  learning  to  speak  is,  at  best,  laborious,  and  requires 
much  painstaking  effort. 

Again,  some  special  aspects  of  the  process  may  be  but 
little  developed  in  the  student.  The  thought  may  be  dealt 
with  too  exclusively  as  matter  of  fact.  In  this  case,  analy- 
sis enables  the  student  to  pay  larger  attention  to  the  emo- 
tional content.  Imagination  may  be  lacking  ;  in  that  case 
it  may  be  emphasized  in  the  treatment  recommended.  So 
the  thought  may  be  filled  out,  limited  only  by  the  ability 
and  industry  of  the  student.  Long  selections  should  be 
taken  up  and  carefully  analyzed  according  to  these  eight 
aspects  of  the  thought  process.  Once  again  the  suggestion 
is  given  to  deal  with  this  analysis  from  the  communicative 
attitude  of  mind. 

It  is  clear  that  this  analysis  is  the  method  applied  in  the 
production  as  well  as  in  the  reproduction  of  a  speech ;  that  is, 
for  the  writing  or  the  preparation  as  well  as  for  the  delivery. 
It  is  the  method,  consciously  or  otherwise,  of  all  effective 
readers  or  speakers.  Conscious  methodical  preparation, 
however,  is  rare.  The  books  have  not  taught  it.  But  is  not 
methodical  and  definite  work  better  than  haphazard  effort  ? 

In  concluding  the  chapter,  I  wish  to  emphasize  the  fact 
that  the  preparation  of  a  selection  or  discourse  is  a  growth, 
just  as  is  the  writing  of  an  effective  book,  sermon,  or  oration. 
The  brooding  process  is  necessary.  I  recently  asked  a  dis- 
tinguished reader  how  long  it  took  him  to  prepare  an  hour's 
reading.  He  answered,  "A  year!"  Perfect  fruit  requires 
time  in  ripening.  The  student  of  speaking  must  have  the 
patience  to  repeat  and  wait. 


50  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   II 

EARNESTNESS 

THE  picture  of  a  slow,  timid  speaker  giving  the  impression 
that  he  really  does  not  feel  what  he  says,  or  that  he  is  too 
indolent,  or  physically  too  feeble  to  enforce  his  ideas,  shows 
by  contrast  the  importance  of  earnestness  in  Public  Speak- 
ing. From  such  a  speaker  the  hearer  turns  listlessly  away. 
The  listener  demands  such  an  alertness  and  energy  in  the 
delivery,  such  a  quickening  of  all  the  agents  of  expres- 
sion, as  is  indicative  of  vigorous  mental  and  emotional 
activity.  A  logical  appreciation  of  the  idea  is  insufficient. 
The  speaker  must  realize  the  idea  emotionally.  The  lis- 
tener demands  also  that  the  speaker  mean  what  he  says, 
that  he  be  morally  in  earnest,  and  speak  out  of  conviction. 
How  fatal  to  have  it  said,  "  He  is  speaking  for  effect ; "  or  to 
charge  that  his  utterance  is  that  of  a  mere  partisan !  It  is 
still  worse  to  say  that  his  is  the  voice  of  a  hireling.  The 
true  speaker  comes  "  that  they  might  have  life."  I  suppose 
it  is  this  that  has  led  writers  upon  oratory,  from  the  time  of 
Quintilian  to  the  present,  to  insist  that  oratory  is  essentially 
moral,  and  that  "only  the  good  man  can  be  a  perfect 
orator." 

Oratory  involves  the  processes  of  convincing  and  persuad- 
ing. But  how  can  the  speaker  convince  another  when  he  is 
not  himself  stirred  by  conviction  ?  or  how  can  he  persuade  in 
that  to  which  he  gives  only  half-hearted  allegiance  ? 

By  earnestness,  then,  something  more  is  meant  than  ener- 
getic vocalization  and  forceful  gesture.  Earnestness  is  sin- 
cerity all  aglow.  Its  roots  are  moral.  A  speech  is  a  kind  of 
personality.  Certainly  it  is  expressive  of  personality ;  hence 


EARNESTNESS  5 1 

the  necessity  of  right  motive  and  legitimate  method.  This 
is  the  earnestness  described  by  Webster  as  "  The  clear  con- 
ception outrunning  the  deductions  of  logic,  the  high  pur- 
pose, the  firm  resolve,  the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the 
tongue,  beaming  from  the  eye,  informing  every  feature,  and 
urging  the  whole  man  onward,  right  onward  to  his  subject." 
To  give  direction  how  to  secure  this  compelling  earnest- 
ness belongs  to  the  teacher  of  ethics  and  of  religion.  One 
or  two  aspects  of  the  subject  may  be  profitably  considered. 

1.  The  speaker  must  be  thoroughly  in  liking  with  the 
work  of  his  profession  or  calling.     The  feeling  of  inadapta- 
bility is  fatal  to  success.     A  genuine  interest  is  indispensa- 
ble.    Who  would  prefer  the  statesman,  the  lawyer,  or  the 
preacher  whose  heart  is  not  in  his  work?     The  advocate 
may  feel  in  earnest  in  behalf  of  his  client  because  his  repu- 
tation is  at  stake,  the  politician  may  be  spurred  by  the  de- 
sire for  advancement,  and  the  preacher  show  an  earnestness 
because  his  success  and  fame  are  being  weighed  in  the  bal- 
ance ;   but   the  fire    of  their  earnestness  is  uncertain   and 
feeble  beside  that  which  grows  out  of  a  peculiar  liking  and 
adaptability  to  the  work  of  the  chosen  profession.      He  who 
would  promote  the  social,  political,  and  religious  interests  of 
the  world  by  means  of  speaking  must  be  thoroughly  imbued 
with  these  interests. 

2.  Again,  the  speaker   must  have,   not  only  this  general 
interest  in  the  work,  but  must  feel  the  importance  of  the 
special  subject  and  occasion.     The  purpose  of  the  speech 
must  be  clearly  defined  and  fully  indorsed.     In  order  to  do 
this  it  will  frequently  be  found  desirable  and  even  necessary 
to  link  the  special  occasion  to  some  larger  interest.     The 
case  of  petty  larceny  must  be  discouraging  to  the  advocate 
except  as  he  relates  the  case  to  justice.     If  the  preacher  is 
to  show  a  real  interest  in  speaking  to  the  small  audience 
and  to  degraded  men,  he  frequently  must  realize  the  impor- 
tance of  the  individual,  and  think  of  what  they  are  capable 
of  becoming. 


52  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

3.  All  who  are  disciplining  themselves  in  speaking  should 
guard  against  the  tendency  to  trust  too  much   to  the   in- 
spiration of  the  audience.     The  influence  of  the  audience 
in  stimulating  mental  and   physical  earnestness  cannot  be 
denied ;  but  it  does  not  wholly  compensate  for  the  lack  of 
stimulus  that  should  come  from  the  subject. 

4.  In  practising  for  skill,  the  student  frequently  finds  him- 
self unable  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  subject  composed 
by  another.     Indeed,  he  frequently  finds  himself  incapable 
of  delivering  with  effective  earnestness  his  own  composition 
before  a  teacher  or  to  a  class.     He  compares  this  with  the 
greater  sense  of  freedom  and  efficiency  in  addressing  a  real 
audience   for  other   than    disciplinary   purposes.     But   this 
sense  of  freedom,  or  having  a  "  good  time,"  frequently  ac- 
companies extravagances,  and  generally  means  simply  let- 
ting  bad   habits   have   free    course.     It    is  always  easy  to 
speak  according  to  habit,  whether  the  habit  be  good  or  bad. 
It  is  the  observation  of  the  author  and  of  others,  that  the 
faults  that  show  themselves  in  the  class-room  are  the  ones 
that  are  prominent  in  delivery  elsewhere.     That  the  student 
should  feel  his  restraint  under  drill  is  not  surprising.    Un- 
der such  circumstances,  the  voice   and  gesture   are  likely 
to  occupy  a  large  part  of  the  field  of  consciousness  ;   the 
speaker  is  self  conscious,  and  in  some  cases  the  sense  of  the 
incongruous   is    overmastering.     A  thorough   control,   how- 
ever, overcomes  the  difficulties  of  the  situation,  and  enables 
the  speaker  to  use  the  thoughts  of  others  with  spontaneous 
earnestness. 

As  to  the  incongruous,  it,  in  fact,  does  not  exist.  Just  as 
the  writer  composes  for  an  imaginary  audience,  so  the  sol- 
itary speaker  addresses  an  imaginary  audience;  but  there 
is  nothing  incongruous  in  either  case.  The  class  or  the 
teacher  may  be  regarded  as  the  audience  ;  or  in  their  pres- 
ence the  speaker  may  still  have  an  imaginary  audience 
beyond  them. 


EARNESTNESS.  53 

According  to  the  author's  observation,  a  person  with  the 
gift  of  speaking,  or  who  has  long  disciplined  himself  in 
delivery,  is  little  disturbed  by  the  drill-room  atmosphere. 

The  ability  to  enter  heartily  into  the  delivery  of  another's 
speech  depends  on  dramatic  power.  This  power  is  always  a 
valuable  source  of  earnestness.  Proper  discipline  calls  up 
the  latent  dramatic  faculty,  and  enables  the  student  to  throw 
himself  heartily  into  the  delivery  of  another's  composition. 
It  does  not  postpone  earnestness  for  the  audience  and  the 
live  occasion  ;  that  which  is  written  by  another  becomes  the 
speaker's  own.  Every  room  is  imaginatively  peopled,  and 
every  occasion  is  made  a  live  one. 


54  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   III 

PHYSICAL    VITALITY 

THE  importance  of  physical  vitality  as  a  source  of  the 
essentials  of  Public  Speaking,  is  seen,  first  of  all,  from  the 
nature  of  the  subject.  Speaking  is  a  physical  as  well  as  a 
mental  act.  Strong  and  erect  carriage  and  free  movements, 
the  ability  to  endure  the  strains  of  thoroughly  alive  speak- 
ing, are  possible  in  the  most  effective  degree  only  in  con- 
nection with  large  vitality.  Proper  breathing  and  vocal 
control  are  secured  through  the  same  source  ;  so  also  is 
life  and  the  feeling  of  power.  Proper  nerve-functioning,  so 
essential  to  successful  speaking,  and  other  features  of  con- 
trol, are  favorably  conditioned  by  vitality.  Reserved  force, 
"  grasp  of  the  audience,"  —  in  short,  those  various  elements, 
the  sum  of  which  is  sometimes  vaguely  called  magnetism, 
reside  largely  in  the  same  source. 

Again,  it  is  observed  that  distinguished  speakers,  in 
general,  have  been  men  of  more  than  ordinary  vitality. 
Even  size  seems  to  have  its  advantage.  In  the  estimation 
of  many,  Henry  Ward  Beecher  represents  the  highest  in 
American  pulpit  oratory.  Dr.  Bartol,  in  a  sermon  on  the 
death  of  Mr.  Beecher,  said  that  "  an  examiner  of  his  bumps 
and  body  pronounced  him  a  splendid  animal."  No  one 
can  doubt  that  this  splendid  physical  power  made  possible 
his  splendid  oratory.  This  unusual  physical  endowment  is 
matched  by  that  of  America's  greatest  political  orator. 
Carlyle  said  of  Webster,  "  He  looks  like  a  walking  cathe- 
dral." 

Every  student  of  the  subject  should  develop  his  physical 
powers  to  the  limit  of  his  ability.  Some  who  enter  upon  a 


PHYSICAL    VITALITY  55 

study  of  the  subject  would  properly  first  go  to  a  physician, 
and  adopt  such  a  course  of  life  as  would  build  them  up 
physically.  The  physical  training  usually  practised  in  con- 
nection with  the  subject,  as  now  usually  taught,  is  found 
promotive  of  vital  development.  The  development  of  erect 
carriage  and  chest  capacity  is  the  result  of  even  a  minimum 
amount  of  work  in  physical  training.  Instruction  and  a 
list  of  exercises  for  physical  development  may  be  found  at 
the  end  of  this  treatise. 

Every  one  who  is  to  speak  to  an  audience  should  so 
order  his  time  and  work  as  to  come  to  the  speaking  fresh 
and  vigorous.  The  feeling  of  physical  vigor  and  buoyancy 
favorably  affects,  not  only  the  bearing  and  voice,  but  also 
the  mental  action.  For  those  who  compose  at  the  time  of 
delivery,  this  feeling  is  indispensable.  A  few  physical 
and  vocal  exercises  preceding  the  speaking,  is  of  decided 
advantage,  provided  one  does  not  tire  himself.  Just  before 
speaking  the  first  sentence,  to  close  the  mouth  and  delib- 
erately fill  the  lungs  by  breathing  through  the  nostrils, 
immediately  gives  the  speaker  the  sense  of  vigor.  This, 
together  with  the  erect  attitude  and  "  active  "  (lifted)  chest, 
is  a  good  preparation  for  the  start. 


$6  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   IV 

CONTROL 

THE  first  serious  difficulty  that  besets  almost  every  one 
when  first  addressing  an  audience  is  that  of  nervousness. 
It  is  most  serious  in  the  case  of  the  inexperienced  ;  but  is 
never  entirely  overcome  by  the  person  of  oratoric  tempera- 
ment. The  unusual  environment  of  the  speaker,  the  seri- 
ousness of  addressing  people  on  important  matters,  the 
attitude  of  a  person  facing  a  silent  and  attentive  audience 
with  the  assumption  that  it  is  worth  their  while  to  listen, 
the  consciousness  that  what  is  said  may  be  challenged 
and  the  way  of  saying  it  criticised,  may  well  disturb  any 
one  but  the  most  stolid. 

Again,  the  necessarily  quickened  thought,  the  aroused 
emotions,  effective  earnestness,  may  easily  run  into  extrava- 
gance. Sudden  emotions  that  sweep  upon  the  speaker, 
unexpected  happenings,  interruptions  in  debate,  will  be 
among  the  occasions  for  self-control. 

By  control,  however,  something  more  is  meant  than  the 
mere  negative  activity  involved  in  overcoming  nervousness 
or  "stage -fright,"  or  the  prevention  of  some  unpurposed 
emotion  running  away  with  the  speaker.  It  means  the 
ability  to  command  all  the  powers  of  mind  and  body  in 
the  complex  process  of  oral  delivery,  —  such  a  use  of  the 
powers  of  impression  and  expression  as  shall  make  the 
speaker  skilful  in  the  clear,  forceful,  and  elegant  presenta- 
tion of  the  things  of  the  mind.  Hence,  not  only  the  main 
features  of  speaking,  but  the  simplest  act  of  articulation, 
involves  control. 

In  general,  practice  and  familiarity  in  the  sphere  of  Pub- 


CONTROL  57 

lie  Speaking  is  the  means  of  cultivating  control,  and  espe- 
cially the  means  of  cultivating  self-control.  The  only  way 
to  learn  speaking  is  to  speak.  But  a  knowledge  of  the  prob- 
lem and  some  practical  suggestions  will  promote  this  aim. 

The  psychology  of  control  involves  a  discussion  of  control 
through  the  feelings  and  the  will. 

i.  Control  through  the  Feelings.  —  Conscious  guid- 
ance of  the  complex  movements  involved  in  the  simplest 
vocal  or  other  act  would  be  impossible.  It  is  accomplished 
in  nature  through  intuition  or  the  guidance  of  feeling. 

Neither  sensations  nor  ideas  come  to  the  mind  isolated 
from  one  another,  but  in  larger  unities  or  trains.  When 
one  of  the  factors  is  recalled,  it  starts  up  the  others.  This 
is  true  of  the  most  minute  and  complex  elements  in  any 
association,  the  details  of  which  the  mind  may  not  be 
able  to  bring  into  consciousness.  The  slightest  initiation 
through  memory  is  sufficient  to  set  off  the  whole  train. 

Every  change  in  the  ordinary  movements,  and  also  in 
vocal  and  gesticular  action,  is  accompanied  by  a  feeling 
peculiar  to  itself.  This  sensation  becomes  a  sign  or  sym- 
bol of  the  movement.  The  sensation  at  one  stage  of  change 
becomes  a  guide  to  the  sensation  at  the  succeeding  stage  of 
change,  according  to  the  law  of  association.  And  so  in  the 
repetition  of  any  movement,  feeling  guides  in  its  accom- 
plishment. Otherwise  it  is  purely  reflex  and  uncontrolled. 

The  motions  of  infants  are  at  first  extremely  impulsive, 
vague,  and  numerous.  They  next  become  purposeful,  but 
lacking  in  control.  For  instance,  with  the  successful  effort 
to  locate  an  object  there  is,  doubtless,  a  muscular  sense  of 
the  proper  adjustment  in  reaching  for  it.  These  recog- 
nized feelings  of  proper  adjustment  with  increasing  cer- 
tainty, guide  to  similar  movements.  Learning  to  talk  is 
accomplished  in  a  similar  manner.  This  is  obviously  the 
way  adults  learn  the  pronunciation  of  the  strange  sounds  of 
a  new  language;  say  English-speaking  persons  learning  the 


58  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

German  "6"  or  "ii,"  or  the  German  learning  the  English 
"th."  The  sound  is  at  first  vague  and  inexact.  The  ad- 
justments for  the  utterance  of  the  sound  are  at  first  pains- 
takingly made,  with  slight  satisfaction  as  to  results.  Next, 
the  adjustments  are  more  promptly  and  accurately  accom- 
plished. There  is  the  accompanying  feeling  of  successful 
adjustment.  This  feeling  is  at  last  the  guide,  without  any 
conscious  effort,  for  adjusting  the  organs  for  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  these  elements.  So  also  in  all  the  acts  of  speak- 
ing, there  is  the  feeling  that  the  vocal  organs  are  illy  or 
well  adjusted  to  produce  the  best  tone,  and  to  insure  the 
most  effective  vocal  control;  the  feeling  that  the  force  and 
direction  of  the  voice  are  illy  or  well  adapted  to  the  size 
of  the  room  and  audience ;  that  the  speech  and  speaker  are 
fitted  to  the  audience,  or  otherwise.  The  feeling  of  adjust- 
ment applies  not  only  to  these  general  features,  but  to 
each  detail  of  vocal,  gesticular,  and  mental  movement. 
The  co-ordinations  must  be  effected,  the  acts  made  specific 
and  accurate,  and  repeated  till  they  organize  themselves  in 
the  mind.  Feeling  is  the  bond  of  this  organization. 

What  is  true  of  these  features  particularized  is  true  also 
of  every  fellure  in  the  technique  of  vocal  and  gesticular 
movements.  The  student,  practising  till  these  feelings  of 
specific  adjustment  organize  themselves  in  the  mind,  can 
detect  a  mal-adjustment  in  speech  as  readily  as  he  detects 
that  he  has  put  on  another  person's  hat  by  the  way  it  fits 
or  feels. 

Tone.  —  One  of  the  characteristics  of  feeling  is  that  of 
Tone.  By  tone,  psychologists  mean  that  every  feeling  is 
either  agreeable  or  painful.  The  feelings  connected  with 
Public  Speaking  are  usually  very  marked  in  their  tone. 
The  agreeable  or  painful  may  be  connected  with  the  voice 
as  it  is  used  properly  or  otherwise,  with  the  ease  or  diffi- 
culty of  enunciation,  with  the  freedom  or  hindrance  of  the 
co-ordinations,  with  the  feeling  of  success  or  failure,  and 


CONTROL  59 

in  connection  with  the  other  aspects  of  the  complex  func- 
tions of  Public  Speaking.  All  normal  speaking,  adapted 
to  its  end,  is  promotive  of  agreeable  feelings;  hence,  it 
appears  that  the  tone  of  the  feeling  becomes  at  once  a 
guide  to  the  speaker. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  tone  of  the 
feelings  will  unerringly  guide  the  student  into  proper  con- 
trol at  once  and  without  attention.  If  the  student  has  been 
in  the  habit  of  flattening  the  chest  and  stooping,  it  is,  at 
first,  anything  but  comfortable  to  stand  erect  and  with 
"active"  chest.  But  when  the  erect  attitude  is  taken,  it 
soon  feels  right;  and  finally  it  is  the  only  attitude  that 
the  tone  of  the  feelings  approves.  Again,  the  teacher 
directs  the  student  to  the  proper  use  of  the  voice  or  the 
proper  form  of  gesture.  The  end  or  purpose  soon  becomes 
definite ;  and  a  failure  to  reach  the  end  results  in  the  feel- 
ing of  discomfort,  while  the  accomplishment  of  the  end 
results  in  the  feeling  of  pleasure.  The  feeling  of  proper 
adjustment  is  closely  related  to  or  identical  with  the  feel- 
ing of  satisfaction. 

A  few  general  suggestions  should  receive  the  student's 
attention :  Take  advantage  of  the  consciousness  of  being 
prepared  on  the  subject-matter  of  the  speech,  as  the  feel- 
ing of  composure  and  adjustment  growing  out  of  this  is 
of  incalculable  advantage  in  every  respect.  Do  not  be 
painfully  conscious  and  attentive  as  to  the  details  of  the 
effort;  but,  instead,  the  speaker  should  feel  his  way  to  the 
comfort  of  effective  performance.  Before  beginning,  he 
should  get  his  bearings  as  to  audience,  and  adjust  him- 
self to  the  general  aims  and  temper  of  his  speech,  and 
take  time  for  the  right  impulses  to  assert  themselves.  The 
feeling  that  the  speech  is  moving  along  easily  should  be 
fostered. 

Moods.  —  Moods  are  those  habitual  feelings  that  pre- 
occupy the  mind,  those  fixed  sets  of  feelings  that  hinder  the 


6O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

person  from  realizing  new  ones.  Each  temperament,  trade, 
and  profession  (this  is  especially  true  of  the  ministry)  gives 
rise  to  a  set  of  feelings  peculiar  to  itself.  These  feelings 
are  of  narrow  range,  and  are  frequently  so  pronounced  as 
to  dominate  the  speaker.  Some  students  require  a  recon- 
struction of  their  emotional  character  amounting  to  a  new 
birth.  Dominant  sets  of  feelings  must  be  guarded  against, 
and  a  combination  of  temperaments  cultivated. 

The  student  of  speaking  must  submit  to  the  unaccus- 
tomed. New  ways  of  speaking,  new  ways  of  acting,  are 
possible  only  to  those  who  can  welcome  new  feelings.  The 
greater  ease  with  which  youth  and  those  in  early  manhood 
can  take  up  that  which  produces  new  feelings,  indicates  this 
period  as  the  most  hopeful  one  for  the  study  and  practice  of 
the  Elements  of  Public  Speaking. 

2.  Control  through  the  Will.  —  The  faults  of  the  stu- 
dent of  Public  Speaking  may  be  clearly  pointed  out.  He 
soon  learns  to  recognize  his  main  faults  for  himself.  He 
squeezes  the  voice  in  the  throat ;  he  speaks  too  rapidly  or  too 
slowly ;  he  reads  in  monotone,  and  without  reference  to  com- 
municating to  the  audience.  Now,  these  and  other  faults 
may  be  affected  by  direct  effort  of  the  will.  Inhibit  by  act 
of  will  all  unpurposed  movements  of  the  mind  and  body. 
Possibly,  inhibition  is  never  purely  negative,  but  includes 
the  substitution  of  a  purposed  idea  or  act  for  one  that  is  not 
purposed.  For  instance,  anger  is  controlled  by  filling  the 
mind  with  some  other  idea,  say  of  pleasure  or  pity.  Inhibi- 
tion of  rapid  delivery  is  accompanied  by  a  substitution  of 
the  idea  of  orderly  and  deliberate  movement.  In  ordinary 
control,  however,  the  negative  feature  of  inhibition  is  dwelt 
upon  more  fully  than  substitutionary  activity,  and  practi- 
cally amounts  to  the  same  in  result. 

"  In  an  adult  of  pretty  complete  volitional  control,  almost  all 
movements,  whether  of  recreation  or  of  business,  are  connected 
together  through  their  reference  to  some  unity,  some  final  purpose 


CONTROL  6l 

which  the  man  intends.  There  is  involved  first  a  process  of  inhi- 
bition^ by  which  all  movements  not  calculated  to  reach  the  end  are 
suppressed  ;  second,  co-ordination,  by  which  the  remaining  move- 
ments are  brought  into  harmonious  relations  with  each  other  ;  and 
third,  accommodation,  by  which  they  are  all  adjusted  to  the  end 
present  in  consciousness. 

"  There  is  also  a  deepening  of  the  control.  The  movements 
become  organized,  as  it  were,  into  the  very  structure  of  the  body. 
The  body  becomes  a  tool  more  and  more  under  command,  a  mech- 
anism better  fitted  for  its  end,  and  also  more  responsive  to  the 
touch.  Isolated  acts  become  capacity  for  action.  That  which  has 
been  laboriously  acquired  becomes  spontaneous  function.  There 
result  a  number  of  abilities  to  act  in  this  way  or  that  —  abilities  to 
walk,  to  talk,  to  read,  to  write,  to  labor  at  the  trade.  Acquisition 
becomes  function  ;  control  becomes  skill.  These  capacities  are 
also  tendencies.  They  constitute  not  only  a  machine  capable  of 
action  in  a  given  way  at  direction,  but  an  automatic  machine 
which,  when  consciousness  does  not  put  an  end  before  it,  acts  for 
itself.  It  is  this  deepening  of  control  which  constitutes  what  we 


1  Dewey's  Psychology,  p.  382. 


62  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


CHAPTER  V 

RESERVED    FORCE 

As  the  credit  of  a  person  is  good,  not  by  what  he  spends, 
but  by  what  he  holds,  so  also  the  strength  of  a  speaker  is 
great,  not  by  what  he  uses,  but  by  what  he  keeps  in  reserve. 
The  tear  in  the  eye  stirs  more  than  the  tear  on  the  cheek, 
and  the  suppressed  groan  is  more  affecting  than  the  loud 
lament.  While  the  audience  demands  vigor  and  earnest- 
ness, it  also  demands  a  control  that  shall  master  and  direct 
that  earnestness.  The  impression  that  great  force  is  used 
upon  small  matters,  and  that  the  speaker's  limitations  are 
obvious,  is  fatal  to  success. 

Reserved  force,  however,  is  not  suppressive  of  earnest- 
ness. The  dull  speaker  may  never  be  excessive  nor  extrava- 
gant in  physical  or  emotional  energy,  but  it  cannot  be  said 
that  he  is  governed  by  reserved  force.  He  is,  instead, 
lacking  in  force,  since  one  can  reserve  only  what  he  has. 
The  speaker  with  the  control  of  reserve,  it  is  safe  to  say, 
feels  more  than  others.  He  gives  the  impression  that  he 
has  sources  of  power  upon  which  he  does  not  find  it  neces- 
sary to  draw.  His  store  of  information  is  not  exhausted; 
his  physical  strength  could  well  endure  more;  his  vocal 
force  is  within  the  range  of  easy  delivery;  his  emotions  are 
chastened  within  appropriate  manifestation. 

Many  speakers  start  out  with  an  abrupt  force  that  shocks 
the  audience,  and  then  allow  the  force  gradually  to  dimin- 
ish. Consequently,  at  the  climaxes  there  is  insufficient 
force  to  make  them  effective,  and  finally  the  close  is  feeble. 
The  process  of  good  speaking  has  been  reversed.  Some- 
times excessive  force  continues  uniform  from  beginning  to 


RESERVED    FORCE  63 

end ;  and  at  other  times  there  is  unnecessary  and  excessive, 
sometimes  periodic,  application  of  force.  Other  violations 
of  this  principle  are  excessive  bodily  action,  pacing  the 
platform,  swinging  the  arms ;  the  lungs  are  allowed  to 
become  exhausted,  the  tone  is  breathy,  .excessive  loudness 
is  obvious. 

Specialization  of  Function.  —  As  specialization  econ- 
omizes effort,  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  aspect  of  reserved 
force.  By  specialization  of  function  is  meant  that  in  the 
accomplishment  of  any  purpose  only  those  agents,  organs, 
or  muscles  are  used  that  are  necessary  to  the  achievement 
of  the  specific  aim.  It  implies  also  the  successive  instead 
of  the  simultaneous  use  of  the  several  parts.  The  awkward 
walker,  for  example,  exerts  the  whole  body,  while  the 
graceful  walker  uses  only  the  organs  and  muscles  of  loco- 
motion. Again,  contrast  the  excessive  muscular  exertion 
of  the  person  learning  to  ride  the  bicycle  with  the  ease  and 
localized  effort  of  the  skilful  rider. 

In  Public  Speaking,  there  is  a  tendency  to  use  too  many 
parts,  and  to  use  the  necessary  parts  simultaneously  in  any 
special  act.  At  times,  physical  energy  is  substituted  for 
vocal  discrimination,  noise  for  emphasis.  In  physical 
carriage,  the  body  should  be  erect,  free ;  and  in  movements, 
only  the  organs  of  locomotion  should  be  used.  In  voice, 
only  the  kind  and  force  adapted  to  the  special  demand 
should  be  allowed.  Excessive  and  laborious  use  should  be 
guarded  against.  In  enunciation,  only  the  tip  of  the  tongue 
should  be  active,  if  the  proper  sound  demand  it  alone.  In 
gesture,  the  whole  body  should  not  be  thrown  with  the 
movements  of  the  arms;  and  the  fingers  should  distinguish 
their  function  from  that  of  the  hand. 

These  examples  will  serve  to  show  the  application  of  the 
principle  of  specialization  in  delivery. 

As  might  be  supposed,  specialization  is  realized  by 
inhibiting  the  reflex  participation  of  unrelated  functions, 


64  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

and  by  educating  the  special  functions  to  depend  on  their 
own  office.  For  example,  where  emphasis  is  called  for, 
train  the  voice  to  use  emphasis  instead  of  loudness.  Again, 
when  the  hand  and  arm  only  are  needed  in  gesture,  compel 
the  body  to  remain  passive.  To  the  audience,  specializa- 
tion gives  the  impression  of  ease  and  elegance,  and  so  sat- 
isfies the  aesthetic  demand  of  eye  and  ear. 

Reserved  force  manifests  itself  in  the  following  ways:  — 

1.  In  the  physical  bearing.     It  is  strong,  and  every  move- 
ment has  a  purpose,  and  is  without  excess.     It  is  closely 
identified   with   physical   control;   the   co-ordinations    are 
accurate  and  timely.      It  suggests  culture  and  good  char- 
acter. 

2.  In  the  use  of  the  voice.     The  breath  is  all  converted 
into  tone.     The  chest  is  active,  the  lungs  are  well  filled. 
Breathing  is  never  labored  nor  obtrusive.     There  is  an  ab- 
sence of  noisiness. 

3.  In  suppressed  emotion.     In  reserved  force,  there  is  the 
impression  given  of  strong  and  vital  thought  and  feeling. 
The  speaker  seems  to  express  less  emotion  than  he  feels. 
Intensity  and  dynamic  effort,  rather  than  noise,  are  the  man- 
ifestations of  such  force. 

4.  In  a  masterful  hold  upon  the  audience.     The  speaker 
seems  to  hold  the  audience  by  direct  effort  of  will.     This 
hold  upon  the  audience  seems  to  reflect  its  power  upon  the 
speaker,  and  he  in  turn  is  restrained  or  held  by  the  audi- 
ence.      Poise    and    purpose    are    controlling.       Mentally, 
emotionally,  vocally,  the  audience  is  in  the  grasp  of  the 
speaker.     The  total  impression  upon  the  audience  is  that  of 
vigor  with  ease. 

5.  In  specialized  effort.     This  gives  the  impression  of  ease 
and  grace. 


THE   CONVERSATIONAL    BASIS  65 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   CONVERSATIONAL    BASIS 

THE  conversational  style  of  delivery  is  the  next  source 
of  clearness,  force,  and  elegance  in  Public  Speaking.  The 
communicative  attitude  of  mind,  direct  address,  is  closely 
related  to  the  conversational  style.  This  style  is  the  basis 
of  all  effective  delivery.  It  is  simple,  direct,  varied. 

The  conversational  is  not  to  be  confused  with  the  feeble 
and  indifferent  manner  of  speaking.  It  demands  anima- 
tion, energy,  and  is  consistent  with  loudness. 

The  main  characteristic  of  the  conversational  is  that  of 
variety ;  and  in  this  respect  is  identical  with  our  characteri- 
zation of  speaking  as  opposed  to  reading.  In  the  delivery 
of  strongly  emotional,  oratoric,  and  forensic  discourse,  the 
delivery  heightens  with  the  emotion.  Increased  intensity, 
loudness,  and  dynamic  effort  will  be  demanded;  but  then 
the  words  containing  the  leading  thought  will  be  differenti- 
ated by  change  of  pitch  and  increased  ictus  (emphasis),  and 
by  use  of  the  characteristic  long  slides  belonging  to  the 
conversational  style. 

After  each  emotional  heightening,  there  must  be  a  return 
to  the  composure  and  discrimination  of  the  conversational. 
Without  this  return  the  style  becomes  "declamatory," 
"speech-making,"  "noisy,"  "grandiloquent."  This  kind 
of  delivery  is  loud,  labored,  and  heavy,  and  is  sometimes 
called  monotonous.  It  deals  with  a  single  emotion;  and 
even  this  does  not  grow  out  of  the  ideas  involved,  but  is, 
rather,  that  vague  feeling  arising  out  of  the  notion  that 
something  important  is  being  attempted.  The  emotion 
may  be  the  prevailing  emotion  of  the  speech  or  composi- 


66  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

tion,  without  any  of  the  varied  emotions,  the  lights  and 
shades,  of  the  piece;  but  even  in  this  case  the  speaker  is 
blindly  swept  along. 

Transition.  —  An  important  aspect  of  the  differentiating 
process  of  the  conversational  style  is  that  of  transition.  The 
separation  of  the  parts  of  the  sentences,  of  one  sentence 
from  another,  and  the  change  from  one  paragraph  to  an- 
other, are  clearly  marked  by  pause,  change  of  pitch,  kind 
of  voice,  etc.  The  delivery  changes  with  the  varied 
thoughts  and  emotions.  At  the  main  divisions,  there  is 
a  lull  not  unlike  that  of  well-ordered  conversation  when 
the  subject  is  spontaneously  changed.  The  speaker  then 
starts  out  with  much  of  the  composure  and  deliberation  of 
a  new  beginning. 

Another  aspect  of  the  conversational  delivery,  closely 
allied  to  that  of  transition,  is  that  of  time-taking,  or  deliber- 
ation. 

In  beginning,  the  speaker  should  be  deliberate;  for  the 
persons  of  the  audience  are  thinking  of  many  things  other 
than  the  speech.  If  he  speak  rapidly,  they  will  become 
bewildered  and  be  left  behind.  The  speaker  should  be 
sure  that  the  listeners  are  with  him  before  the  pace  is 
greatly  quickened.  The  same  conditions  are  to  be  observed 
in  the  transitions  of  the  main  divisions. 

Time-taking  is  not  to  be  confused  with  lazy,  tardy, 
drawling  delivery.  In  the  heat  of  the  emotion,  the  time 
may  be  unusually  rapid:  so  also  may  the  utterance  of 
slurred  phrases  in  all  kinds  of  delivery;  but  even  in  rapid 
delivery  some  parts  are  retarded,  and  pauses  made  at  ap- 
propriate places. 

Silence.  —  The  hesitance  and  thoughtfulness,  at  times 
characteristic  of  the  purely  colloquial,  should  be  allowed 
as  a  feature  of  the  conversational  style.  Normal  silence, 
arising  from  a  transition  of  ideas,  is  an  important  factor 
in  delivery.  The  mind  of  the  speaker,  however,  at  this 


THE    CONVERSATIONAL    BASIS  67 

point  must  be  active,  as  the  silence  resulting  from  mental 
vacuity  is  quite  another  matter.  The  silence  resulting  from 
waiting  on  the  idea,  or  from  adjusting  one's  self  to  a  new 
trend  of  ideas,  is  full  of  significance.  It  points  to  the  past, 
and  anticipates  the  future.  At  such  pauses  the  listener  is 
active,  adjusting  himself  to  the  conditions;  hence,  no  dis- 
appointment is  felt,  no  time  is  lost.  Contrast  the  short 
silence  occasioned  by  a  misplaced  page  of  manuscript. 

The  inexperienced  speaker  regards  silence  as  ominous. 
To  him  it  seems  to  suggest  inefficiency  and  to  presage  fail- 
ure. He  must  hear  his  voice  constantly  sounding.  Ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  natural  drawlers  and  stolid  folks,  the  art 
of  time-taking  in  delivery  must  be  acquired. 

The  Start.  —  Select  persons  (possibly  an  individual  is 
better)  in  the  farthest  part  of  the  audience,  and  direct  your 
talk  to  them.  To  insure  a  proper  start,  Col.  T.  W.  Hig- 
ginson  recommends  the  speaker  to  say,  when  occasion 
admits,  as  in  after-dinner  speaking,  "I  was  just  saying  to 
my  friend  here."  This  induces  the  conversational  attitude. 
A  favorable  start  is  the  best  assurance  of  a  good  time 
speaking.  To  recover  from  a  faulty  beginning  as  to  key, 
force,  and  time,  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible.  Think  of 
good  speaking  as  simply  strong  talk. 


68  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

A 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    AUDIENCE 

THE  next  source  of  the  essentials  of  Public  Speaking  is 
that  of  the  audience.  The  speaker  is  conditioned  by  the 
audience  as  truly  as  the  audience  is  affected  by  the  speaker. 
A  speech  is,  in  fact,  the  joint  product  of  speaker  and  audi- 
ence. The  audience  reflects  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the 
speaker ;  and  the  speaker,  in  turn,  reflects  the  mind  of  the 
audience.  He  intuitively  realizes  the  sympathy  of  the  audi- 
ence, and  is  quick  to  feel  when  a  false  chord  is  struck.  He 
realizes  when  an  unwelcome  or  unharmonious  idea  is  felt 
by  the  audience.  The  stimulus  of  attention  and  sympathy 
is,  at  times,  exhilarating  in  the  highest  degree.  In  the 
highest  flights  of  oratory,  so  unobserved  are  the  symbols  of 
communication,  that  the  minds  of  the  speaker  and  listener 
seem  to  affect  each  other  immediately.  Antagonism  may 
overcome  a  feeble  speaker ;  but  he  who  is  confident  of  the 
right  and  assured  of  his  strength  finds  it  a  stimulus.  He 
arouses  his  energies,  determined  to  win. 

Speaking,  in  which  there  is  not  conscious  communication, 
is  destructive  of  everything  that  might  be  called  eloquence. 
A  response  of  some  kind  is  essential  to  the  welfare  of 
speaking.  Frequently  the  speaker  is  unconscious  of  this 
lack  of  grasp  on  the  audience,  because  he  is  having  a  good 
time  all  alone,  or  is  occupied  with  the  subordinate  pro- 
cesses of  the  speech.  At  other  times,  the  conscious  lack 
of  grasp  is  realized  in  an  overwhelming  way.  In  order  to 
communicate,  the  speaker  must  first  of  all  gain,  and  then 
hold  the  attention  of  his  audience. 

Attention.  —  "He  held  the   attention  of  the  audience 


THE    AUDIENCE  69 

from  the  beginning  to  the  close,"  is  often  heard  in  proof  of 
a  successful  effort.  The  ability  to  do  this  is  one  of  the 
commonest  tests  of  effective  speaking.  It  is  the  safest  one, 
too,  if  the  speaker  is  sure  that  the  attention  given  is  spon- 
taneous. Spontaneous  attention  is  the  attention  that  the 
person  must  give  because  he  cannot,  under  the  circum- 
stances, avoid  it. 

Frequently,  however,  the  attention  is  voluntary  or 
" forced,"  and  is  the  result,  not  of  the  speaker's  power,  but 
of  the  good  manners  of  the  audience.  The  listener  compels 
himself  to  attend.  It  requires  effort,  and  involves  purpose. 

A  speaker  with  marked  ability  to  hold  the  attention  and 
to  exert  a  masterful  control  over  an  audience  is  called 
magnetic.  No  description  of  a  speaker's  power  is  more 
common  than  this,  and  yet  none  is  more  vague.  Sometimes 
it  is  used  as  a  literal  description  of  what  takes  place.  The 
speaker  is  said  to  magnetize  the  audience  with  "animal 
magnetism."  In  describing  the  power  of  a  certain  speaker, 
a  minister  of  more  than  ordinary  culture  once  said  to  me, 
"  I  could  almost  see  the  fluid  pass  to  the  audience."  With 
imagination  a  little  more  vivid,  the  cautious  "almost" 
would  have  been  turned  into  an  absolute  statement. 

What  are  the  most  striking  effects  produced  by  the  "  mag- 
netic "  speaker?  Rapt  attention,  that  makes  the  listener 
oblivious  to  all  else  but  the  speech.  The  listener  enters 
thoroughly  into  the  thoughts,  emotions,  and  volitions  of 
the  speaker.  For  the  time  he  loses  his  independence ;  he 
is  susceptible  to  the  slightest  suggestion ;  he  involuntarily 
applauds,  laughs,  cries,  is  pitiful,  burns  with  indignation, 
becomes  angry,  as  swayed  by  the  thought  of  the  speaker. 
The  stir  of  the  audience  and  the  sigh  of  relief  are  the  most 
common  reaction  from  this  kind  of  attention.  The  listener 
"  comes  to  himself,"  somewhat  as  if  waking  out  of  a  dream. 
Sometimes  the  issue  is  in  action,  as  when  the  audience  of 
Demosthenes  cry  out,  "Let  us  march  against  Philip!" 


7O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

In  rapt  attention  the  members  of  an  audience  have  been 
known  to  rise  to  their  feet,  sometimes  to  applaud,  at  other 
times  to  stand  with  fixed  gaze  and  open  mouth. 

Do  not  these  manifestations  suggest  hypnotic  states  ? 
Certainly  these  results  are  not  due  to  any  occult  power  of 
mind  or  any  mysterious  "fluid."  They  are  perfectly  nor- 
mal, and  are  explicable  as  phenomena  of  spontaneous  atten- 
tion. And  as  recent  psychology  gives  up  the  theory  of  a 
"  mesmeric  fluid  "  and  "  animal  magnetism,"  and  accepts 
the  phenomena  of  attention  and  suggestion  —  purely  psychic 
processes  —  as  an  explanation  of  the  hypnotic  state,  so,  also, 
in  analyzing  the  power  of  magnetic  speaking,  crude  notions 
of  a  peculiar  fluid  must  be  abandoned. 

The  matter  of  the  speech  and  the  manner  of  the  delivery 
adapted  to  secure  the  spontaneous  attention  of  the  listener, 
—  that  is,  to  lead  the  attentive  mind  on  step  by  step  in  the 
thought,  feelings,  volitions,  and  aims  of  the  speaker,  —  is 
the  only  mystery  involved.  To  secure,  in  some  measure,  this 
involuntary  attention  of  the  listener,  even  though  genius  is 
lacking,  is  the  legitimate  aim  of  every  modest  student  of 
speaking. 

i.  Communicative  Attitude.  —  To  secure  attention  and 
get  a  response,  the  speaker  must,  first  of  all,  be  in  the  com- 
municative attitude  of  mind.  This  is  the  attitude  of  direct 
address.  As  language  is  social  in  its  function,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  a  solitary  mind.  We  may,  indeed,  have  sounds  and 
symbols  without  having  language,  for  language  always  pre- 
supposes a  real  or  imaginary  mind  addressed.  In  Public 
Speaking,  the  mind  of  the  audience  is  directly  communi- 
cated with  by  means  of  the  voice  and  action. 

(1)  The  communicative  attitude  of  mind  speaks  to,  and 
not  before,  an  audience. 

(2)  It  is  essentially  the  vocative  attitude.     The  speaker  at 
his   best    spontaneously   says,   "  My   friends,"   "  My  neigh- 
bors," " My  countrymen,"  "Fellow-citizens,"  "My  brethren." 


THE    AUDIENCE  J\ 

These  are,  in  their  best  use,  by  no  means  mere  comen- 
tions  of  speech.  When  the  words  are  not  used,  the  speaker 
should,  from  time  to  time,  mentally  supply  the  vocative. 

(3)  The  communicative  attitude  manifests  itself  in  facing 
the  audience. 

The  speaker  should  not  merely  "  appear  before  the  audi- 
ence," but  should  look  at  it.  The  eye  is  not  only  expres- 
sive, but  controlling.  It  first  challenges  attention,  and 
leads  in  all  expression  by  gesture.  Gesture  while  looking 
intently  at  the  manuscript,  or  above  and  beyond  the  audi- 
ence, is  provokingly  ineffective.  In  every  description  that 
necessarily  takes  the  eye  away  from  the  audience,  the  eye 
starts  from  the  audience  and  returns  to  it.  Playing  back 
and  forth,  the  eye,  together  with  the  movement,  says,  "  Do 
you  see  it?"  The  speaker  should  localize  individuals  or 
groups,  and  study  the  effect  of  the  effort  upon  them.  To 
give  proper  pitch  and  direction  to  the  voice,  select  a  person 
in  the  farther  part  of  the  room,  and  speak  to  him  as  collo- 
quially as  possible.  In  speaking  to  individuals  of  the  audi- 
ence, however,  do  not  "  catch  their  eye,"  that  is,  to  recognize 
them.  Speaking  then  becomes  personal,  and  is  liable  to 
give  offence. 

(4)  Communication  objectifies  the  thought.     The  subjective 
or  soliloquizing  attitude  of  mind  is  to  be  avoided.     "  Objec- 
tify," must  be  frequently  urged  upon  the  student.     "Talk 
it  out ; "  but  not  noisily  or  fussily. 

2.  Deferential  Attitude.  —  The  deferential  attitude  of 
mind  and  manner  quickens  the  sympathies  of  both  speaker 
and  audience.  The  arrogant,  boastful  attitude  repels,  while 
the  simple  and  frank  manner  wins  sympathy  and  attention. 
But  deference  to  the  audience  has  its  sources  in  good-will. 

In  these  ways,  if  the  matter  is  adapted  to  the  purpose, 
the  listener  is  interested,  foreign  thoughts  excluded,  and, 
by  the  laws  of  association,  the  mind  is  led  on  step  by  step 
in  the  thoughts  and  emotions,  and  to  the  purposes  of  the 
speaker. 


72  PUBLIC   SPEAKING 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GOOD-WILL 

WE  have  already,  in  several  places  in  this  treatise,  come 
upon  the  idea  that  effective  speech  is  in  its  roots  moral. 
We  face  the  same  conception  again.  No  one  who,  from 
the  pulpit,  at  the  bar,  on  the  rostrum  or  platform,  speaks 
upon  serious  matters,  has  any  right  to  demand  a  hearing 
unless  he  intends  the  good  of  those  addressed.  The  good 
of  man  is  the  most  comprehensive  aim  of  the  speaker,  as 
it  is  of  all  human  effort.  If  one  speak  merely  for  entertain- 
ment, he  must,  in  order  to  get  into  the  best  frame  of  mind 
for  the  purpose,  even  in  this,  will  the  temporary  good  of 
those  addressed.  If  effective  speech  is  essentially  moral, 
it  must  be  because  of  its  aims.  The  aim  of  true  speech 
is  not  victory,  but  the  welfare  of  the  individual  and  the 
race. 

Good-will  toward  those  with  whom  we  communicate  has 
an  inherent  force  that  defies  analysis.  Some  aspects  of  it, 
however,  may  be  brought  under  our  attention. 

1.  The  speaker  inspired  by  good-will  recognizes  the  rights 
and  worth  of  man,  and  assumes  the  attitude  of  deference 
when  speaking  to  men.     This  opens  the  door  to  their  emo- 
tions through  their  sympathies.     This  right  to  civil  and  fair 
treatment  is  specifically  recognized  in  the  conventional  com- 
pliments of  Public  Speaking.     Though  known  to  be  con- 
ventional, they  still    have  value,   and  are  ineffective  only 
when  compliments  degenerate  into  flattery.     Compliment  is 
all  the  more  effective  if  genuinely  sincere. 

2.  Again,  good- will  is  a  fertile  source  of  sympathy.     Sym- 
pathy is  one  of  the  most  practical  demands  of  good  speaking. 


GOOD-WILL  73 

By  means  of  it  the  speaker  reaches  the  listeners'  point  of 
view,  feels  what  they  feel,  and  is  guided  accordingly.  It  is 
the  force  of  the  "one  mind."  Interests  are  identical,  the 
feelings  are  in  accord,  and  the  speaker  is  heard  gladly. 

3.  The  confidential  attitude  is  an  important  aspect  of  sym- 
pathy. In  consequence  of  it  the  speaker  is  sincere,  frank, 
—  takes  the  audience  into  his  thoughts  and  motives.  Open- 
ing the  channels  for  free  communication,  and  bringing  the 
mind  into  close  touch,  he  reaches  toward  the  audience  and 
talks  to  its  individuals. 

The  confidential  attitude  is  profitably  attended  to  in  con- 
nection with  the  voice  and  bearing.  Vocal  direction  and 
modulation  are  immediately  affected  by  it,  as  is  also  the 
physical  bearing.  The  aspirate  or  half-whispered  tone,  care- 
fully directed  to  the  individual,  is  the  intense  form  of  the 
confidential  voice.  But  in  speaking,  other  elements  neces- 
sarily modify  this  form.  Nothing,  however,  so  develops  the 
agreeable  voice  as  the  sympathetic  emotions. 


74  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   IX 

VARIETY 

AN  adequate  utilization  of  the  principles  already  discussed 
will  foster  that  variety  which  is  indispensable  to  effective 
speaking.  It  should,  however,  be  definitely  held  before  the 
speaking-aim  as  a  point  to  be  realized.  The  demand  for 
variety  is  fundamental  in  the  human  mind.  Nature,  with  her 
infinite  forms  and  colors,  with  her  changes,  is  adapted  to 
satisfy  this  demand  for  variety,  which  in  its  aspects  of  change 
and  difference  is  fundamental  in  all  thinking.  Sensation  is 
realized  only  through  change  or  difference.  For  instance, 
the  foul  odor  of  a  room  is  not  detected  by  the  occupant  long 
accustomed  to  it.  A  person  coming  from  out-of-doors,  by 
contrast,  at  once  forcibly  appreciates  the  condition.  We 
have  already  treated  the  importance  of  differentiation  in  the 
thinking  process.  This  differentiation  manifests  itself  ob- 
jectively as  variety. 

Variety  in  the  aspect  of  novelty  is  interesting  to  the  lis- 
tener. It  is  a  means  of  keeping  the  mind  alert  and  atten- 
tive, and  so  reduces  the  effort  of  hearing.  The  mind  says, 
"  What  next  ?  "  and  is  constantly  expectant.  The  soporific 
influence  of  uninteresting  discourse,  or  of  monotonous,  uni- 
form delivery,  is  too  familiar  to  most  audiences.  People 
sleep  well  —  the  senses  are  dormant  under  even  loud  noises 
when  they  are  uniform.  A  lull  in  the  delivery  or  actual 
pause  is  more  arousing  than  uniformly  loud  tones. 

Variety  must  not  be  capricious.  Changes  of  force,  of  rate, 
or  of  other  elements,  must  grow  out  of  the  thought  and  feel- 
ing of  the  speech.  The  practice  of  a  prominent  preacher, 
formerly  of  Boston,  well  illustrated  faulty  change.  He,  in  a 


VARIETY  75 

most  arbitrary  fashion,  would  suddenly  change  the  pitch.  It 
was  done  to  rest  the  voice.  The  change,  and  hence  all  its 
benefits,  might  have  been  secured  by  letting  it  be  expressive 
of  the  variety  in  the  thought  and  feeling. 

As  in  all  art,  so  here,  variety  must,  however,  recognize 
the  claims  of  Unity.  The  leading  thought  of  the  speech  and 
principal  aim  must  unify  all  the  parts.  The  lesser  unities 
of  paragraphs,  and  even  sentences,  must  not  be  overlooked. 
Moreover,  each  speech  or  selection  has  its  own  atmosphere 
or  prevailing  emotion  underlying  all  the  variety  of  its  parts. 
It  gives  the  ideational,  and  especially  the  emotional  unity  of 
speech.  All  the  parts  must  harmonize  with  this  unity.  The 
atmosphere  of  tragedy  differs  from  that  of  comedy.  That 
of  the  funeral  sermon  differs  from  that  of  the  cheerful  essay. 
Each  part  of  a  discourse  is  colored  emotionally  by  each  im- 
mediately adjacent  part.  With  the  ideal  differentiation  the 
relation  with  reference  to  unity  must  also  be  observed.  The 
anger  of  one  part  colors  the  tenderest  sentiment  of  the  adja- 
cent part.  Words  introducing  a  quotation  are  colored  by 
the  emotion  of  the  quotation. 

But,  possibly,  variety  is  more  difficult  to  realize  than  unity, 
and  leading  attention  must  be  given  to  it.  To  secure  vari- 
ety in  the  delivery,  the  speaker  must  first  of  all  realize  the 
content  of  the  language.  Again,  by  attending  to  the  objec- 
tive aspects  of  delivery,  controlling  the  kinds  of  voice,  rate, 
pitch,  and  other  features  of  delivery,  one  may  more  readily 
master  this  source  of  effective  speaking. 


BOOK    III 

ELEMENTS  OF  THE  ESSENTIALS  OF   PUBLIC 
SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   I 

ELEMENTS   OF    CLEARNESS 

SEC.  I.  Enunciation.  —  Enunciation  refers  to  the  deliv- 
ery of  words  as  such.  It  involves  purity  of  tone  (to  be  dis- 
cussed under  voice),  syllabication,  vowel  moulding,  and 
consonantal  articulation.  The  distinct  enunciation  of  words, 
including  as  it  does  the  clear-cut  coinage  of  syllables,  is 
the  leading  element  in  the  intelligibility  or  clearness  of 
delivery. 

The  mistake  of  supposing  that  distinct  utterance  depends 
upon  loudness  is  common.  I  have  found  that  persons  of 
meagre  training,  speaking  for  the  first  time  in  a  large  hall, 
must  almost  invariably  be  restrained  from  excess  of  vocal 
effort.  Noise  is  the  result  of  such  effort,  but  the  words  are 
unintelligible.  Aiming  at  distinctness  by  means  of  loud 
and  strained  vocal  effort  leads  to  a  clumsy  formation  of 
the  vowels  and  consonants,  and  so  defeats  its  purpose. 

Mr.  A.  M.  Bell  says  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  address- 
ing an  audience  of  twenty-five  thousand  people  in  Agricul- 
tural Hall,  in  London,  was,  because  of  his  accurate  and 
vigorous  enunciation,  distinctly  heard  by  all. 

For  distinctness,  the  speaker  should  aim  at  pure  rather 
than  loud  tone,  and  depend  mainly  upon  effective  enuncia- 
tion. 

Syllabication.  —  Although  the  syllable  strikes  the  ear 
as  a  single  impulse,  it  is  usually  composed  of  more  than 

76 


ELEMENTS    OF    CLEARNESS  77 

one  element.  The  word  "man  *'  has  three,  while  " strands  " 
has  seven  elements  ;  but  they  are  uttered  so  quickly  that 
they  strike  the  ear  as  one  sound.  To  do  this  well  requires 
a  quick,  as  well  as  an  accurate  action  of  the  organs.  At- 
tention should  be  centred  rather  upon  syllables  than  upon 
words. 

Enunciation  is  frequently  bad,  because  insufficient  time 
is  given  to  each  word.  The  speaker  attempts  to  give  long 
words,  and  words  difficult  to  utter,  in  the  time  of  short 
words,  and  words  easy  of  utterance.  This  results  in  a 
tumbling  or  skipping  of  syllables.  Taking  care,  then,  of 
the  syllables  remedies  this  feature  of  faulty  enunciation. 
Such  words  as  "uninterrupted,"  ''indivisibility"  must  be 
given  time,  so  also  difficult  combinations,  especially  a  suc- 
cession of  sounds  of  the  same  order.  Try  the  following 
sentence  from  Carlyle:  "In  this  world  with  its  wild  whirl- 
ing eddies  and  mad  foam  oceans  .  .  .  dost  thou  think  that 
there  is  therefore  no  justice?  " 

Accent.  —  Each  accented  syllable  requires  a  separate 
and  decided  vocal  impulse  or  ictus,  while  the  unaccented 
syllable  may  be  given  with  remission  of  the  effort.  For 
instance,  in  "  king,  king,"  and  in  "  boy-hood"  each  syllable 
requires  a  separate  impulse ;  but  in  "  kingly "  and  "  boy- 
ish," the  unaccented  syllables  are  given  with  the  vocal 
remission.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  neglect  of  the  accent 
lessens  the  vigor  of  enunciation. 

Vowel  Moulding.  —  Shaping  the  mouth  for  the  vowel 
formation  may  most  accurately  be  called  moulding  the 
vowel.  The  student  should  appreciate  this  characteristic 
of  vowel  formation.  A  fuller  understanding  of  the  nature 
of  both  vowels  and  consonants  must  prove  helpful  in  their 
utterance.  A  vowel  is  the  result  of  vocalization  with  a 
definite,  fixed  position  of  the  organs  of  enunciation.  It  is 
syllabic,  and  in  its  formation  the  breath  is  not  obstructed. 

A  consonant  is  the  result  of  vocalization  with  a  definite, 


78  PUBLIC   SPEAKING 

fixed  position  of  the  organs  of  enunciation.  It  is  non- 
syllabic;  and  in  its  formation  the  breath  or  voice  is  ob- 
structed by  two  articulating  parts ;  as,  for  instance,  the  tip 
of  the  tongue  and  hard  palate  in  "  t."  Consonants  are  artic- 
ulated, while  vowels  are  moulded.  In  current  enunciation 
the  obstruction  is  but  momentary ;  but  it  is  sharp  and  accu- 
rate. Vowels  form  the  sensuous,  and  consonants  the  intel- 
lectual elements  of  speech.  The  use  of  the  latter  is  the 
prerogative  of  man  alone.  Women  articulate  better  than 
men;  the  cultivated,  better  than  the  uncultivated.  Clear- 
cut  enunciation  is  one  of  the  signs  of  intellectuality  and 
refinement. 

The  student  should  accustom  himself  to  an  elementary, 
that  is,  separate  utterance  of  the  vowels  and  consonants. 

English  Vowels.  — The  following  is  Mr.  A.  M.  Bell's 
list  of  vowels :  — 

1.  Eve  7.  orange  13.  do 

2.  fll  8.  ah  14.  cure 

3.  ale  9.  err  15.  pole 

4.  care  10.  up  16.  ore 

5.  met  II.  ice  17.  all 

6.  at  12.  far  18.  on 

I=i-f-e;  a  =  a  +  ee;  o  =  o -f  oo. 

A  (far),  66  (pool),  and  e  (feel),  may  be  regarded,  so  far 
as  the  position  of  tongue,  lips,  and  vocal  cords  are  involved, 
as  typical  vowels. 

In  "a,"  the  lower  jaw  drops,  the  upper  lip  is  lifted  and 
arched,  showing  the  central  upper  teeth,  the  aperture  con- 
forming in  a  general  way  to  the  outline  of  a  triangle, 
whose  base  is  the  lower  lip.  The  tongue  is  flattened  and 
hollowed. 

In  a  general  way,  the  position  for  "  e  "  is  the  reverse  of 
this.  The  mouth  is  extended  from  side  to  side.  The  posi- 
tion is  a  more  nearly  closed  one,  and  the  organs  are  brought 
nearer  together.  It  is  the  "  smiling  "  position  of  the  mouth. 

In  "  oo  "  the  lips  are  rounded. 


ELEMENTS    OF    CLEARNESS  79 

English    Consonants.  — The   following   is   Mr.  A.  M. 
Bell's  list  of  consonants  :  — 

With  BREATH  only.  With  VOICE.  With  nasal  VOICE. 

M  in  man. 
N  in  nun. 
Ng  in  song. 


Th 

in 

thin. 

B 

in 

ban. 

Wh 

in 

whey. 

V 

in 

voice. 

F 

in 

fell. 

W 

in 

will. 

8 

in 

sin. 

D 

in 

do. 

Sh 

in 

shun. 

Th 

in 

this. 

T 

in 

tin. 

L 

in 

lo. 

H 

in 

how. 

B 

in 

ray. 

K 

in 

king. 

z 

in 

zinc. 

Q 

in 

queen. 

Zh 

in 

vision. 

P 

in 

pin. 

Y 

in 

yes. 

C 

in  church. 

Q 

in 

go- 

J 

in 

judge. 

Exercise.  —  From  the  nature  of  vowels  and  consonants, 
it  must  appear  that  skill  in  enunciation  is  secured  by  means 
of  the  accuracy,  promptness,  and  vigor  of  their  utterance. 
Practice  to  this  end  must  be  elementary.  Supplementary 
attention  moreover,  while  in  the  act  of  speaking,  may  be 
given  to  enunciation. 

Practice.  —  (i)  Fronting  the  tone.  (To  be  discussed 
under  the  section  on  voice.) 

(2)  Sounding  the  separate  vowels  and  consonants  of  the 
tables. 

(3)  Shaping  the  mouth  for  lip-mobility:  with  voice,  and 
again  without  voice,  round  the  lips  on  do,  rapidly  change  to 
ah,  and  then  to  e.     Thus :  55,  ah,  e,  etc. 

(4)  Spelling  words  phonetically. 

(5)  Exercising  the  tip  of  the  tongue.     Practice  do,  do, 
etc.,  rapidly  ;  change  to  to,  to,  etc.  ;  now  repeat  "  fa,  la,  si, 
do." 

(6)  Speaking  with  exaggerated  movements  of  the  tongue 
and  lips,  as  though  talking  to  the  deaf,  generously  opening 
the  mouth  —  teeth  as  well  as  lips. 


8O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

(7)  Carefully  and  patiently  pronouncing   each  separate 
word  of  any  selection  to  be  delivered. 

(8)  Enouncing  difficult  combinations  :  fifth,  eighth,  this, 
then,  should'st,  would'st,  sixty-sixth,  cloud-capt,  ing,  ness, 
lovedst. 

"  'Twas  a  wild,  mad  kind  of  a  night,  as  black  as  the  bottomless  pit, 
The  wind  was  howling  away  like  a  Bedlamite  in  a  fit, 
Tearing  the  ash  boughs  off,  and  mowing  the  poplars  down, 
In  the  meadows  beyond  the  old  flour-mill  where  you  turn  to  go  off  to  the 
town." 

"  Nothing  could  stop  old  Lightning  Bess  but  the  broad  breast  of  the 
sea." 

"  Lovely  art  thou,  O  Peace,  and  lovely  are  thy  children,  and  lovely  sure 
thy  footsteps  in  the  green  valleys." 

wzld  whirling  copies.  .   .  . 

(9)  In  speaking,  (i)  avoid  forcing  the  voice ;  (2)  centre 
the  attention  upon  syllables ;  (3)  attend  to  the  final  syllable 
of  each  word ;  (4)  project  the  tone,  making  the  consonants 
fricative,  and  giving  the  vowels  due  quantity. 

SEC.  II.  Emphasis. — The  intelligibility,  or  clearness, 
of  the  delivery  depends  in  the  next  place  upon  Emphasis. 
By  change  of  emphasis,  as  many  different  ideas  may  be 
conveyed  as  the  sentence  contains  words.  It  follows  from 
this,  that  an  emphasis  not  sharply  given  may  blur,  and 
one  placed  at  random  may  defeat  the  intended  meaning. 
Hence  it  is  of  practical  importance  to  know  how  to  empha- 
size a  word.  The  intention  to  emphasize  a  word  makes  the 
thought  of  that  word  stand  out  prominently  in  the  mind. 

A  word  is  made  emphatic  by  making  it  stand  out  promi- 
nently from  among  the  rest  of  the  sentence.  For  intellec- 
tive emphasis  this  is  done  by  placing  the  word  on  a  higher 
pitch,  and  uttering  it  with  increased  ictus.  This  stress  must, 
of  course,  be  upon  the  accented  syllable.  The  accented 


ELEMENTS   OF    CLEARNESS  8 1 

syllable  bears  the  same  relation  to  its  word  as  the  emphatic 
word  bears  to  its  sentence. 

"The  feudalism  of  Capital  is  not  a  whit  less  formidable 
than  the  feudalism  of  Force"  1  The  words  " capital "  and 
"  force  "  are  rendered  emphatic  by  being  lifted  on  a  higher 
pitch  than  the  rest  of  the  words,  and  by  increased  ictus. 
Change  the  emphasis  to  other  words  and  the  meaning  is 
changed. 

There  is  another  order  of  emphasis,  mainly  emotional, 
given  by  pausing  before  or  after  a  word  or  phrase,  and  the 
use  of  a  different  kind  of  voice. 

"Up  the  English  come  —  too  late." 

Pausing  before  the  phrase  "  too  late  "  illustrates  this  kind 
of  emphasis.  Ordinarily  emphasis  means  the  treatment  of 
the  word  as  first  described.  It  is  by  far  the  most  impor- 
tant feature  of  emphasis,  and  the  latter  order  is  mentioned 
mainly  for  completeness  of  treatment. 

Sometimes  the  idea  to  be  emphasized  is  contained  in  a 
phrase.  In  this  case  the  phrase  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  long 
compound  word. 

In  applying  emphasis,  it  is  of  primary  importance  to  know 
what  word  to  emphasize.  To  determine  the  proper  word  to 
emphasize,  main  reliance  must  be  placed  upon  the  analysis 
of  the  language-content.  Sometimes,  however,  the  meaning 
that  best  suits  the  mind's  purpose  is  found  out  by  trying 
different  emphases,  and  so  allowing  the  ear  to  guide.  The 
clearer  the  style  of  the  composition,  the  easier  it  is  to 
select  the  right  emphasis.  Since  the  thought  process  is  one 
of  comparison,  the  word  containing  the  new  idea  or  anti- 
thetic idea  must  always  receive  the  leading  emphasis.  Be- 
yond the  primary  and  secondary  emphasis  the  objective 
treatment  cannot  profitably  go. 

1  Horace  Mann. 

2  Browning:  Herv6  Kiel 


82  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Faults.  —  The  more  common  faults  to  be  guarded  against 
are,  briefly,  these  :  — 

1.  Emphasizing  too  many  words.    Where  all  are  generals, 
there  can  be  no  privates. 

2.  Emphasizing  words  at  regular  intervals. 

3.  Emphasizing  unimportant  words. 

4.  Emphasizing  words  at  random. 

As  already  stated,  the  main  dependence  for  correctly  pla- 
cing emphasis  is  in  clear  thinking. 

SEC.  III.  Phrasing,  or  Grouping.  —  In  the  analysis 
under  the  chapter  on  "  Content  of  Language,"  we  have  found 
that  a  sentence  contains,  (i)  that  of  which  something  is 
stated,  and  (2)  that  which  is  stated  of  the  something.  Now, 
these  leading  parts  of  the  idea  are  restricted,  extended, 
and  otherwise  modified  by  subordinate  ideas.  Some  of 
them  affect  the  subject,  others  the  predicate.  In  some  sen- 
tences additional  ideas  of  co-ordinate  value,  in  others 
parenthetical  or  explanatory  ideas,  are  introduced.  Clear- 
ness, then,  in  delivery,  requires  that  these  relations  be  ex- 
pressed. This  is  done  by  vocal  punctuation  and  other 
modifications  called  phrasing,  or  grouping.  The  principal 
means  of  phrasing  are,  pause,  pitch,  and  rate ;  and  although 
inflection  is  primarily  expressive  of  emotional  states,  it  also 
plays  an  important  part  in  grouping,  since,  in  this,  the 
falling  slide  closes  the  thought,  while  the  rising  slide  in- 
dicates an  incomplete  idea. 

Ideas  are  discriminated  by  pausing  between  them.  The 
degree  of  their  separation  determines  the  length  of  the 
pause.  Ideas  of  equal  value  assume,  in  the  main,  the  same 
pitch.  Parenthetical  and  other  subordinate  ideas  are  slurred 
by  the  use  of  more  rapid  utterance.  Such  a  phrase,  when  in- 
troducing an  important  explanation,  becomes  a  leading  idea, 
and  is  treated  accordingly;  that  is,  it  is  given  in  slower  time. 

Elliptical  ideas  are  accounted  for  by  means  of  pauses. 
A  single  sentence  may  illustrate  grouping. 


ELEMENTS   OF    CLEARNESS  83 

"  It  may,  in  the  next  place,  be  asked,  perhaps,  supposing 
all  this  to  be  true,  what  can  we  do  ?  "  1  The  group,  "  in  the 
next  place,"  is  formed  by  pausing  before  the  word  "in"  and 
after  "place,"  and  by  giving  the  group  on  a  lower  pitch, 
with  slightly  increased  rate;  "be  asked"  returns  to  the  pitch 
of  "it  may,"  and  slows  down  slightly.  The  group,  "per- 
haps, "  receives  a  pause  before  and  after,  and  is  rendered 
on  a  lower  pitch.  The  ellipsis,  or  omitted  part,  after  "per- 
haps" is  "be  asked,"  hence,  pause  as  long  as  would  be 
required  to  say  these  words.  The  group,  "  supposing  .  .  . 
true,"  is  separated  by  pause,  and  still  lower  pitch  and 
faster  time.  The  group,  "  what  .  .  .  do  ? "  is  separated  by 
pause,  and  returns  to  the  pitch  of  the  first  two  words  of  the 
sentence. 

SEC.  IV.  Transition.  —  Transition  may  be  regarded  as 
an  accompaniment,  if  not  an  aspect,  of  phrasing  and  group- 
ing. More  exactly,  it  describes  the  changes  that  take  place 
in  passing  from  one  group  to  another.  As  we  have  already 
shown,  some  of  these  groups  are  within  the  sentence.  But 
there  are  larger  groups  or  unities  that  must  be  attended  to 
in  delivery.  Each  completed  idea,  usually  indicated  by 
the  sentence,  must  be  clearly  separated  from  its  fellows. 
A  transition  from  a  literal  statement  to  an  illustration,  from 
one  part  of  a  description  to  another,  must  be  distinctly  made. 

The  passage  from  one  paragraph  to  another,  from  one 
stanza  to  another,  being  among  the  larger  groups,  requires 
transition  of  wider  intervals. 

While  transition  primarily  marks  the  thought-groups  of 
the  speech,  it  is  also  expressive  of  the  emotional  changes 
of  the  group.  The  ebb  and  flow  of  any  emotion,  and  the 
change  from  one  emotion  to  another,  are  among  the  occa- 
sions for  transition.  These  emotional  changes  may  be  as 
widely  divergent  as  the  grave  and  the  gay,  or  so  delicate 
as  to  be  difficult  to  analyze. 

1  Daniel  Webster  :  Public  Opinion. 


84  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Transition  from  group  to  group  is  effected,  first  of  all,  by 
pausing  between  groups,  and  then  by  change  of  rate,  of 
pitchy  and  of  kinds  of  voice  within  the  group. 

While  no  attempt  is  made  to  illustrate  the  fine  shades  of 
grouping  and  transition,  it  is  thought  worth  the  while,  on  a 
single  sentence,  to  give  the  main  features  of  the  grouping, 
with  special  reference  to  the  emotion. 

"'Tis  true  this  god  did  shake;  his  coward  lips  did  from 
their  color  fly."  The  group,  "'tis  true,"  reaffirms  with 
slight  irony.  The  transition  to  the  group  "this  god,"  is 
marked  with  intense  irony.  Transition  to  "did  shake," 
less  ironical,  strongly  affirmatory  of  a  suppository  denial  of 
shaking.  The  groups,  "'Tis  .  .  .  shake,"  are  given  with 
irony,  —  high  pitch,  deliberation,  circumflex.  The  transi- 
tion or  change  to  the  second  member  is  marked.  A  tinge 
of  irony  remains.  But  Cassius  attempts  to  be  rather  more 
indifferent,  and  to  make,  mainly,  a  statement  of  fact,  lower 
pitch,  more  rapid  rate,  major  slides. 

How,  then,  may  the  speaker  become  skilful  in  the  use 
of  Transition  ?  In  this,  as  in  other  aspects  of  speaking, 
the  main  dependence  should  be  in  mental  activity.  Some 
common  hindrances,  however,  may  be  noted,  and  a  few 
hints  be  given  from  the  objective  point  of  view. 

The  following  are  the  more  common  faults :  — 

1.  I  have  frequently  found  pupils  grouping  by  mechani- 
cally following   the  punctuation.     Punctuation   only  in  a 
general  way  indicates  the  pauses  of  delivery,  and  does  not 
reach  at  all  changes  of  rate   and  pitch.     Sometimes   the 
pause  is  as  long  at  a  comma  as  it  is  at  other  times  at  a 
period. 

2.  Another   common   fault  is  the  habit   of   running  on 
without  change  as  long  as  the  breath  allows,   and,   in  the 
main,   pausing  only  to    supply  the    lungs.      Akin    to    this 
is  the   fault    of   capricious    pausing   without   reference  to 
sense. 


ELEMENTS    OF    CLEARNESS  8$ 

3.  The  fault  of  falling  into  a  melodic  swing,  and  paus- 
ing at  regular  intervals,  is  to  be  guarded  against. 

4.  Probably  no  fault  under  this  head  is  more  common 
than  that  of  hurriedly  pouring  out  words,  with  little  or  no 
recognition  of  differentiated  parts.     Such  delivery  is  fluent, 
but  fluency  is  not  eloquence. 

As  restlessness  and  anxiety  precipitate  the  speaker  into 
false  pausing  and  pitch,  he  should  direct  his  attention  to 
ease  and  time-taking,  and  by  effort  of  will  apply  pause, 
pitch,  and  rate  according  to  the  requirements  of  transition. 
Always  distinctly  aim  at  making  the  thought  clear. 


86  PUBLIC   SPEAKING 


CHAPTER   II 

ELEMENTS   OF   FORCE 

SEC.  I.  A  Good  Voice.  —  A  voice  may  be  clear,  ring- 
ing, and  easily  heard  at  a  distance,  and  still  not  be  a 
good  voice.  For  a  voice  may  have  those  qualities,  and  at 
the  same  time  be  harsh,  throaty,  strident,  and  be  limited  in 
range  of  pitch,  and,  most  serious  of  all,  deficient  in  musi- 
cal quality.  To  be  good,  a  voice  must  be,  not  only  an 
organ  of  clear  enunciation,  but  be  capable  also  of  ex- 
pressing all  shades  and  complexities  of  emotions.  This 
capability  is  due,  in  the  main,  to  its  musical  quality.  A 
voice  of  this  kind  contributes  primarily  to  force;  but  in- 
asmuch as  a  musical  voice  is  agreeable  in  itself,  it  also 
satisfies  the  aesthetic  demands. 

A  good  voice  is  characterized  by  Strength,  Flexibility, 
Purity,  Range  of  Pitch,  and  Resonance. 

i.  Strength  refers  to  those  qualities  that  render  the  voice 
capable  of  sustained  effort,  and  to  its  capacity  for  loudness. 
Its  further  and  most  satisfactory  manifestation  is  a  well- 
supported  tone  that  gives  the  impression  of  solidity. 
Strength  is  favorably  affected  by  a  healthy  condition  of 
the  lungs,  and  of  the  muscles  and  membrane  of  the  vocai 
passage;  but  it  is  secured  principally  by  the  strength  and 
proper  use  of  the  muscles  of  respiration.  If  the  diaphrag- 
matic and  other  muscles  of  respiration  fail  to  act  strongly 
and  accurately,  a  feeble,  relaxed  tone,  lacking  in  the  power 
of  projection,  results.  While  it  is  true  that  a  strong 
resilience  of  the  lungs  aids  in  strength  of  tones,  vocal 
strength  does  not,  as  popularly  supposed,  depend  mainly 
upon  "strong  lungs,"  but  upon  the  strength  and  upon  the 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  8? 

sustained  resistance  of  the  inspiratory,  against  the  expiratory 
act  of  breathing. 

In  ordinary  breathing,  the  rather  long  act  of  inspiration 
is  followed  by  a  sudden  relaxation  of  the  inspiratory  mus- 
cles, and  quick  expulsion  of  the  breath.  This  process, 
although  normal  in  ordinary  breathing,  is  reversed  in  the 
production  of  voice.  Hence,  in  speaking,  the  tendency 
is  still  to  sudden  expulsion  of  breath,  and  consequent 
feeble  tone.  This  must  give  place  to  strong  and  sustained 
muscular  action,  resulting  in  slow  and  firm  dealing  out  of 
the  breath. 

2.  Flexibility.     By    flexibility    of    voice    is    meant    the 
ability  to  change  easily  from  pitch  to  pitch,  on  successive 
syllables,  either  by  sliding,  or  by  a  distinct  change  from 
one  pitch  to  another.      It   includes  also  the  "vanish"  or 
slide  of  the  voice  on  the  single  vowel.     For  instance,  "a" 
is  properly  a  compound  tone  composed  of  a  -f-  e.     As  or- 
dinarily pronounced  by  a  good  voice,  the  latter  part  (e)  of 
the  sound  glides  to  a  lower  pitch.     Harsh  tones  result  in 
part  from  a  lack  of  this  "vanishing,"  or  gliding.     From 
these  considerations  it  is  at  once  evident  that  the  music  of 
the  tone  is  enriched  by  flexibility. 

3.  Purity  of  tone.     To  be  most  effective,  a  voice  must  be 
composed  of  pure  tones ;  that  is,  tones  free  from  waste  of 
breath.     Upon  this  quality  the  carrying  power  of  the  voice 
primarily  depends.     It  is  also  one  of  the  conditions  of  rich 
resonance.      Vocalizing  while  panting  and  purring  after  vio- 
lent exercise  gives  an   exaggerated   exhibition   of  breathy 
voice.    But  sudden  collapse,  running  too  long  on  one  breath, 
and   faulty  adjustment   of   the  vocal   cords,  are  the  more 
common  causes  of  impure  tones. 

4.  Range  of  pitch.     That  many  speakers   use   a   limited 
range  of  pitch,  usually  too  high  or  too  low,  is  a  matter  of 
common  observation.    The  use  of  the  medium  pitch,  ranging 
above  and  below  according  to  the  emotional  demands,  is 


88  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

quite  as  necessary  in  speech  as  in  music.     The  nature  and 
power  of  this  use  hardly  need  extended  treatment. 

5.  Resonance.  Even  persons  unskilled  in  vocal  analy- 
sis call  one  voice  "  harsh ;  "  another,  "  thick ;  "  another, 
"  throaty ; "  and  so  on ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  they  say 
another  is  "  ringing ;  "  another,  "  rich  and  full ;  "  and  still 
another  is  called  "  pleasant,"  or  "  musical."  The  last  term 
is  not  only  a  popular,  but  also  an  accurate  description  of  a 
voice  rich  in  resonance.  This  property  of  voice  variously 
called  "  timbre,"  "  klang,"  "  color,"  "  quality,"  is  that  which 
gives  individuality  to  voice,  or  which  distinguishes  one  voice 
from  another ;  for  each  voice  has  its  own  way  of  combining 
its  partial  with  its  fundamental  tones,  and  it  can  be  distin- 
guished from  another,  just  as  we  distinguish  a  flute  from  a 
violin  or  an  organ,  by  the  characteristics  of  its  resonance. 
The  meaning  of  fundamental  and  partial  tones,  and  the  part 
they  play  in  resonance,  may  be  made  clear  by  a  brief  dis- 
cussion of  the  physical  basis  of  voice. 

Sound.  —  Physical  acoustics  is  a  section  of  the  theory  of  elastic 
bodies.  Elastic  bodies  vibrating,  set  the  air  in  vibration,  pro- 
ducing wave-like  "motions  that  reach  to  distant  points.  These 
wave-like  motions  radiate  in  all  directions,  and  are  similar  to  the 
agitation  produced  by  throwing  a  stone  into  a  placid  sheet  of 
water.  The  air  vibrations,  if  sufficiently  rapid,  striking  upon  the 
ear,  produce  the  sensation  of  sound. 

Sounds  are  distinguished  as  (a)  musical  tones  and  as  (£) 
noises.  Musical  tones  result  from  rapid  periodic  vibrations  of 
sonorous  bodies.  Noises  result  from  non-periodic  vibrations. 

Musical  tones  are  distinguished  as  to  — 

1.  Force  or  loudness. 

2.  Pitch  or  relative  height. 

3.  Quality. 

Vibrations  of  sonorous  bodies  producing  sound  may  be  seen 
by  the  naked  eye  ;  felt,  as  in  touching  a  tuning-fork  ;  and  by  mechan- 
ical contrivances  their  amplitude,  form,  and  rapidity  may  be  deter- 
mined. 


ELEMENTS   OF   FORCE  89 

Force,  or  loudness  of  sound,  depends  upon  amplitude  of  vibra- 
tion. The  wider  the  vibration,  the  louder  the  sound. 

Pitch,  or  place  in  the  scale,  depends  upon  the  rapidity  or  rate  of 
vibration.  The  greater  the  number  of  vibrations  in  a  second,  the 
higher  the  pitch.  The  highest  audible  number  of  vibrations  is 
38,000  per  second  ;  the  lowest,  20  per  second  ;  from  40  to  4,000  (7 
octaves)  only  are  valuable  for  music  or  speech.  The  number  of 
vibrations  is  very  accurately  determined  by  means  of  an  instru- 
ment called  the  siren,  consisting  of  a  perforated  disk  in  rapid 
revolution. 

Quality  is  that  peculiarity  which  distinguishes  the  musical  tones 
of  a  flute  from  a  violin,  or  that  distinguishes  different  voices,  and 
depends  upon  inform  of  vibration. 

A  string  or  resonant  body  is  found  to  vibrate  not  only  the  entire 
length,  but  at  the  same  time  in  sections  which  are  aliquot  parts  of 
the  whole. 

The  sounds  of  these  sectional  vibrations,  combined  with  the 
sound  of  the  whole  or  prime  vibration,  give  a  compound  tone  that 
ordinarily  reaches  the  ear  as  one  tone.  The  tones  of  these  sec- 
tional vibrations  are  called  overtones,  or  partials,  and  mingling  with 
the  tone  of  the  prime  vibration,  give  the  quality  of  tone.  The 
prime  tone  is  generally  the  loudest  and  lowest,  and  names  the  pitch 
of  the  compound.  The  "upper  partial  tones"  are  harmonics  of 
the  prime. 

Compound  Tones.  —  The  most  important  of  the  series  of  these 
upper  partial  tones  are  as  follows :  — 

The  first  upper  partial  is  an  octave  above  the  prime,  and  makes 
double  the  number  of  vibrations  in  the  same  time. 

The  second  upper  partial  is  a  twelfth  above  the  prime,  making 
three  times  the  number  of  vibrations  in  the  same  time  as  the 
prime. 

The  third  upper  partial  is  two  octaves  above  the  prime,  with  four 
times  as  many  vibrations. 

The  fourth  upper  partial  is  two  octaves  and  a  major  third  above 
the  prime,  with  five  times  as  many  vibrations. 

The  fifth  upper  partial  tone  is  two  octaves  and  a  major  fifth 
above  the  prime,  with  six  times  as  many  vibrations. 

The  sixth  upper  partial  is  two  octaves  and  a  sub-minor  seventh 
above  the  prime,  with  seven  times  as  many  vibrations. 


gO  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

The  seventh  upper  partial  is  three  octaves  above  the  prime,  with 
eight  times  the  number  of  vibrations. 

Many  other  partials  occur  in  some  compound  tones,  but  always 
in  the  same  relative  position. 

"Simple  tones  have  a  very  soft,  pleasant  sound,  free  from  all 
roughness,  but  wanting  in  power,  and  dull  at  low  pitches." 

"  Musical  tones,  which  are  accompanied  by  a  moderately  loud 
series  of  the  lower  upper  partial  tones  up  to  about  the  sixth  par- 
tial, are  more  harmonious  and  musical.  Compared  with  simple 
tones  they  are  rich  and  splendid,  while  they  are  at  the  same  time 
perfectly  sweet  and  soft  if  the  higher  upper  partials  are  absent." 

"If  only  the  uneven  partials  are  present,  the  quality  of  tone 
is  hollow ;  and  when  a  large  number  of  such  partials  are  present,  it  is 
nasal.  When  the  prime  tone  predominates,  the  quality  of  the  tone 
is  rich  or  full ;  but  when  the  prime  tone  is  not  sufficiently  superior 
in  strength  to  the  upper  partials,  the  quality  of  the  tone  is  poor  or 
empty. 

"When  partial  tones  higher  than  the  sixth  or  seventh  are  very 
distinct,  the  quality  of  the  tone  is  cutting  and  rough.  The  degree 
of  harshness  may  be  very  different.  When  their  force  is  inconsid- 
erable, the  higher  upper  partials  do  not  essentially  detract  from  the 
musical  applicability  of  the  compound  tones  ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
are  useful  in  giving  character  and  expression  to  the  music." 

"  Tuning-forks  are  the  most  difficult  to  set  in  sympathetic  vibra- 
tion. To  effect  this  they  must  be  fastened  on  sounding-boxes 
which  have  been  exactly  tuned  to  their  tone.  If  we  have  two  such 
forks  of  exactly  the  same  pitch,  and  excite  one  by  a  violin  bow,  the 
other  will  begin  to  vibrate  in  sympathy,  even  if  placed  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  room,  and  it  will  continue  to  sound  when  the  first 
is  damped.  The  astonishing  nature  of  such  a  case  of  sympathetic 
vibration  will  appear,  if  we  merely  compare  the  heavy  and  powerful 
mass  of  steel  set  in  motion  with  the  light,  yielding  mass  of  air, 
which  produces  effect  by  such  small  motive  power  that  it  could  not 
stir  the  lightest  spring  which  was  not  in  tune  with  the  fork.  With 
such  forks  the  time  required  to  set  them  in  full  swing  by  sympa- 
thetic action  is  also  of  sensible  duration,  and  the  slightest  disagree- 
ment in  pitch  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  sensible  diminution  in  the 
sympathetic  effect.  By  sticking  a  piece  of  wax  to  one  prong  of 
the  second  fork,  sufficient  to  make  it  vibrate  once  in  a  second  less 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  9! 

than  the  first,  a  difference  of  pitch  scarcely  sensible  to  the  finest 
ear,  the  sympathetic  vibration  will  be  wholly  destroyed.1'1 

Thus  sympathetically  the  chambers  of  the  pharnyx,  ventricles, 
nares,  mouth  —  the  entire  vocal  passage,  chest,  and  head  —  re-en- 
force the  tones  of  the  vocal  bands. 

Vowel-resonance.  —  One  vowel  sound  is  distinguished  from 
another,  though  both  have  the  same  pitch  and  intensity.  This 
fact  was  long  a  question  of  inquiry.  Sir  C  Wheatstone  first  stated 
the  true  theory,  which  was  afterwards  subjected  to  exhaustive 
study  by  Helmholtz.  "  The  vibrations  of  the  vocal  bands  associ- 
ate with  the  vibrations  of  the  resonant  cavity  of  the  mouth,  which 
can  so  alter  its  shape  as  to  resound  at  will  either  the  fundamental 
tones  of  the  vocal  cords  or  any  of  their  overtones.  With  the  aid 
of  the  mouth,  therefore,  we  can  mix  together  the  fundamental  tone 
and  the  overtones  of  the  voice  in  different  combinations."  Helm- 
holtz was  able  to  imitate  those  tones  by  tuning-forks,  and  by  com- 
bining them  appropriately  to  produce  the  sounds  of  the  vowels. 

I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell 
exhibit  the  fact  that  vocal  pitch  may  be  determined  by  the  shape 
of  the  mouth  cavity.  Closing  the  mouth,  and  moving  the  tongue 
to  alter  the  shape  of  the  cavity  to  suit,  the  pitches  of  the  scale  were 
distinctly  produced  by  snapping  a  lead-pencil  placed  against  the 
windpipe. 

For  practical  purposes  we  distinguish  the  chest  from  the 
head  resonance.  The  former  is  brilliant,  clear,  and  ringing ; 
the  latter  is  full  and  mellow.  Chest  resonance  is  due  to  the 
actual  sympathetic  vibrations  of  the  chest;  while  the  head 
resonance  is  due  to  the  resonance  of  the  face  and  head.  Some 
voices  use  more  of  one  than  of  the  other,  while  some  com- 
bine the  two  for  the  ordinary  voice.  The  varied  use  of  res- 
onance is  determined  by  the  kind  of  emotion  to  be  expressed. 

Vocal  Defects.  —  Besides  defects  resulting  from  natural 
limitations  and  disease,  there  are  others  due  to  a  lack  of 
skill  in  the  use  of  the  organs.  The  latter  are  removable, 
and  the  accomplishment  of  this  forms  an  important  part 

1  Sensation  of  Tone.     Helmholtz. 


92  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

of  the  minor  problem  of  Public  Speaking.     They  may  be 
described  as  follows  :  — 

1.  Squeezed-back  voice.     This  is  the  guttural  voice,  and  re- 
sults from  an  attempt  to  manage  the  voice  by  means  of  the 
throat  muscles,  rather  than  by  use  of  the  deep  respiratory 
muscles. 

2.  Fall-back  voice.     This  results  from  a  failure  to  contin- 
uously support  the  voice.    Instead,  it  allows  it  to  fall  back  in 
the  throat ;  and  it  is  slightly  squeezed,  especially  at  pauses. 

3.  Back-back  voice.     This  is   the  voice    improperly  "fo- 
cused."    It  is  held  far  back  in  the  pharynx.     It  lacks  sup- 
port and  projection,  and  sounds  muffled,  feeble,  and  far  off. 
An  over-cautious  use  of  the  voice  in  case  of  a  sore  throat 
generally  exhibits  this  quality. 

4.  Nasality,  resulting  from  lowering  the  soft  palate  and 
uvula,  and  allowing  the  voice  to  beat  against  them  instead 
of  freely  passing  to  the  front  part  of  the  mouth,  is  a  most 
common  fault. 

5.  Thick  or  mouthful  voice,  resulting  from   carrying   the 
tongue  too  high,  and  attempting  to  articulate  with  the  top 
instead  of  with  the  tip  of  the  tongue. 

6.  Huskiness,  resulting  from  thickened  vocal  cords,  and 
from  allowing  non-vocalized  breath  to  escape  because  of  a 
faulty  adjustment  of  the  vocal  cords. 

Besides  the  causes  assigned  to  the  several  faults  named, 
the  habit  of  running  too  long  on  one  breath  is  the  frequent 
accompaniment  of  husky,  feeble,  and  squeezed  voice. 

Vocal  Development.  —  In  analyzing  the  leading  faults 
of  voice,  it  will  be  found  that  they  are  due  either  to  a  failure 
to  support  and  control  the  voice  by  means  of  the  diaphrag- 
matic and  other  deep  respiratory  muscles,  or  to  an  improper 
obstruction  of  the  vocal  passage  at  some  point,  or  to  both. 
It  will  be  found,  moreover,  that  the  qualities  of  good  voice 
depend  upon  the  reverse ;  that  is,  upon  a  deep  support  and 
control,  and  a  relaxed  and/r^  condition  of  the  vocal  pas- 


ELEMENTS   OF    FORCE  93 

sage.  A  recognition  of  these  two  facts  renders  simpler 
our  understanding  of  the  main  features  of  vocal  develop- 
ment. 

Vocal  support  and  control  involve  deep  breathing.  The 
more  obvious  signs  of  deep  breathing  are  as  follows :  While 
avoiding  the  sudden  lifting  of  the  shoulders  and  upper  part 
of  the  chest,  and  directing  the  inspired  breath  to  the  lower 
part  of  the  chest  or  upper  part  of  the  abdomen,  it  will  be 
observed  that  this  part  of  the  body,  together  with  the  sides, 
will  be  pressed  out,  and  then  followed  by  a  slight  falling 
in  of  the  same,  and  an  enlargement  of  the  whole  chest. 
Leading  attention,  however,  is  to  be  given  to  the  deep 
distention.  The  following  description  of  respiration,  the 
facts  and  quotations  of  which  are  from  Dr.  Martin's  "  The 
Human  Body,"  may  aid  in  an  understanding  of  the  breath- 
ing process : — 

i.  The  Enlargement  of  the  Thorax  for  Inspiration.  —  (i)  The 

diaphragm  is  a  strong,  sheet-like  muscle,  arching  up  dome-like, 
separating  the  chest  and  the  abdominal  cavities.  Its  muscular 
fibres  radiate  from  the  dome  downwards  and  outwards,  and  are 
attached  to  the  breastbone,  the  lower  ribs,  and  the  vertebral 
column.  By  contraction  the  diaphragm  sinks  to  a  horizontal 
position,  thus  greatly  increasing  the  size  of  the  thorax  vertically. 

(2)  The  ribs  slope  downwards  from  the  vertebral  column  to 
the  breastbone.  "  The  scalene  muscles,  three  on  each  side,  arise 
from  the  cervical  vertebrae,  and  are  inserted  into  the  upper  ribs. 
The  external  intercostal  lie  between  the  ribs,  and  extend  from  the 
vertebral  column  to  the  costal  cartilages ;  the  fibres  slope  down- 
wards and  forwards." 

"  During  inspiration  the  scalenes  contract,  and  fix  the  upper  ribs 
firmly ;  then  the  external  intercostal  shorten,  and  each  raises  the 
rib  below  it."  Thus  the  ribs  are  elevated,  the  breastbone  shoved 
out  from  the  spine,  and  the  capacity  of  the  thorax  enlarged  from 
front  back.  Other  muscles  are  employed,  but  chiefly  in  offering 
points  of  resistance  to  those  already  described.  These  are  the 
principal  ways  of  enlarging  the  chest,  and  require  considerable 
muscular  effort. 


94  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Now,  when  the  chest  is  enlarged,  the  space  between  the  lungs 
and  sides  of  the  chest  forms  a  cavity  which  contains  no  air.  The 
external  air,  with  a  pressure  of  14.5  pounds  to  the  square  inch, 
rushes  in  when  the  glottis  of  the  air-box  is  open,  distends  the 
lungs,  just  as  an  elastic  bag  suspended  in  a  bottle  may  be  made 
to  distend  and  touch  the  sides  of  the  bottle  from  which  the  air 
has  been  exhausted. 

2.  Expiration.  —  In   expiration   very   little    muscular  effort  is 
required.     After  inspiration,  the   muscles  relax,  and  the  sternum 
and  ribs  fall  to  their  former  position.     The  elastic  abdominal  wall 
presses  the  contained  viscera  against  the  under  side  of  the  dia- 
phragm, arching  it  up.    Thus  the  air  is  sent  out  in  passive  breathing 
most  largely  by  the  elasticity  of  the  parts  stretched  in  inspiration, 
rather  than  by  special  expiratory  muscles. 

In  the  forced  breathing  of  vocal  effort,  the  muscles  of  expiration 
assist  in  the  expulsion  of  air.  "  The  main  expiratory  muscles  are 
the  internal  intercostal,  which  lie  beneath  the  external,  between 
each  pair  of  ribs,  and  have  an  opposite  direction,  their  fibres  run- 
ning upwards  and  forwards."  The  internal  intercostal,  contract- 
ing, pull  down  the  upper  ribs  and  sternum,  and  so  diminish  the 
size  of  the  thorax  from  front  back. 

At  the  same  time  the  lower  ribs  and  breastbone  are  pulled  down 
by  a  muscle  running  in  the  abdominal  wall  from  the  pelvis  to  them. 
"  At  the  same  time,  also,  the  abdominal  muscles  contract  and  press 
the  walls  of  that  cavity  against  the  viscera,  force  the  diaphragm  to 
arch  up,  and  lessen  the  cavity  from  up  down." 

In  moknt  inspiration  many  extra  muscles  are  called  into  play, 
chiefly  as  points  of  firm  resistance,  or  otherwise  assisting  the  usual 
muscles  of  inspiration. 

In  violent  expiration,  also,  many  other  muscles  may  co-operate 
with  the  usual  muscles,  tending  to  diminish  the  thoracic  cavity. 

3.  Kinds  of  Breathing.  —  The  breathing  that  brings  the  upper 
part  of  the  chest  into  the  greatest  action,  and  lifts  the  clavicles  or 
collar  bones  excessively,  is   called    "  clavicular  breathing."     It   is 
readily  seen  that  the  lungs  in  this  kind  of  breathing  can  only  be 
partially  filled,  as  the  lower  part  of  the  chest  is  still  contracted. 

When  breathing  is  carried  on  by  action  of  the  ribs,  it  is  then 
called  "costal,"  or  "chest-breathing."  This,  like  "clavicular 
breathing,"  does  not  admit  of  the  lungs  being  fully  distended. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  95 

That  breathing  which  brings  the  diaphragm  into  action,  which 
is  indicated  by  the  external  movement  of  the  upper  part  of  the 
abdomen  outward,  is  called  "diaphragmatic,"  "abdominal,"  or 
"  deep  breathing."  This  fills  the  lungs  completely,  and  is  evi- 
dently the  normal  breathing.  Many  physiologists  have  taught, 
and  still  teach,  that  while  men  and  children  breathe  abdominally, 
women  breathe  with  the  chest. 

Dr.  Martin,  among  the  leaders  of  scientific  specialists, 
says  :  "  In  both  cases  the  diaphragmatic  breathing  is  the 
most  important.  Women  are  again  warned  of  the  danger 
and  folly  of  tight  lacing,  which  prevents  natural  breathing." 

"  Diaphragmatic  "  breathing,  with  the  "  chest "  breathing, 
is  known  as  "  compound  "  breathing.  This  gives  the  great- 
est lung  capacity,  and  at  the  same  time  makes  possible  the 
use  of  the  muscles  of  expiration  in  the  forced  breathing  of 
vocal  effort.  Very  clearly,  then,  diaphragmatic  or  abdom- 
inal breathing,  aside  from  its  relation  to  health,  is  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  the  speaker.  Without  it,  he  will 
frequently  "  run  out "  of  breath,  and  find  it  impossible  to 
project  strong  tone. 

Exercises.  The  following  are  the  exercises  prescribed  for 
deep  vocal  support  and  control :  — 

SERIES  I.  i.  Breathe  while  lying  upon  the  back.  In 
this  position  it  is  hardly  possible  to  breathe  other  than 
deeply. 

2.  (i)    Stand  erect  with  lifted  chest,  place  the  fingers  of 
both  hands  (palms  toward  the  body)  against  the  upper  part 
of  the  abdomen.     Slowly  expel  the  breath  from  behind  the 
fingers ;  now  breathe  against  the  fingers. 

(2)  Take  the  same  position,  breathe  in  suddenly,  avoid 
lifting  the  shoulders,  breathe  out  slowly. 

3.  Practise  frequently  while  sitting,  walking,  and  stand- 
ing, prompt  or  instantaneous  filling  of  the  lungs,  holding  the 
breath  for  an  instant,  then  as  slowly  as  possible  letting  the 
breath  out. 


9O  PUBLIC    SPEAKINQ 

In  breathing  to  support  life,  and  especially  during  sleep, 
inspiration  is  slow  and  expiration  is  sudden ;  but  in  forced 
breathing,  for  speaking  purposes,  inspiration  is  sudden  and 
expiration  is  slow;  hence  the  value  of  practice  in  slow  or 
controlled  expiration. 

4.  Take    the    second    exercise    under    number    2,    and 
slightly  vocalize  the  vowel  a  (far)  while  breathing  out. 

5.  Take  an  erect  attitude,  with  hands  passive  at  the  side, 
and  with   more  voice  and  with  more  force  chant  the  sen- 
tence, "Breathe,  breathe  out  all." 

"  An  all-pervading  voice." 

««  Break,  break,  break, 
On  thy  cold  grey  stones,  O  sea ! " 

TENNYSON. 

6.  Take   the  same  position,  chant  in  measured  mono- 
tone, moderate  force :  — 

"The  ocean  old,  centuries  old, 

Strong  as  youth,  and  as  uncontrolled, 

Paces  restless  to  and  fro 

Up  and  down  the  sands  of  gold." 

LONGFELLOW. 

An  essential  of  the  exercises  given  in  Series  I.  is  the  rec- 
ognition of  the  fact  that  the  deep  respiratory  muscles  are  the 
active,  and  the  throat  muscles  the  relatively  passive  agents. 

All  feeling  of  tension  and  discomfort  of  the  throat  and 
neck  muscles  must  be  avoided ;  and  instead,  the  feeling  of 
relaxation  and  of  the  open  vocal  passage  should  be  main- 
tained. The  tones  are  made  to  "  float  out." 

Again,  the  same  vocal  exercises  should  be  given  with 
special  attention  to  lifting  the  uvula  and  the  soft  palate. 
Determine  this  by  looking  in  a  glass.  Afterward  be  guided 
by  the  feeling  of  the  lifted  position.  A  slight  gaping  effort 
also  lifts  the  soft  palate. 

Before  proceeding  to  Series  II.,  the  student  should  acquire 
some  skill  in  Series  I. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  97 

SERIES  II.  In  this  series,  the  form  of  the  tone  is  explo- 
sive or  dynamic,  instead  of  diffusive.  The  general  observa- 
tions under  Series  I.  are  applicable  here. 

1.  Stand  erect,  with  lifted  chest,  fingers  on  the  upper 
part  of  the  abdomen,  gentle  force,  diaphragmatic  stroke, 
vocalize,  ha  (far). 

2.  The  same  exercise  with  slightly  increased  force:  — 

"  Up  drawbridge,  groom, 
What,  warder,  ho!" 

WALTER  SCOTT. 

The  same  exercise  with  increased  force :  — 

"  Forward,  the  light  brigade, 
Charge  for  the  guns,  he  said." 

TENNYSON. 

For  variety,  the  student  or  teacher,  keeping  in  mind  the 
leading  object,  may  add  other  exercises.  After  some  skill 
in  Series  I.  and  II.  is  achieved,  practice  should  be  directed 
to  the  following  slightly  different  aspect  of  vocal  develop- 
ment. 

Placing  the  Voice.  —  The  most  casual  observer  unhesi- 
tatingly describes  one  voice  as  "throaty,"  and  another  as 
"  nasal. "  It  is  obvious  that  all  such  descriptions  are  taken 
from  the  locations  that  determine  the  vocal  quality.  All 
may  not  agree  as  to  the  location  of  the  most  satisfactory 
voice.  It  seems,  however,  to  possess  the  entire  vocal 
apparatus.  At  one  time  the  head  tones  and  at  another  time 
the  chest  tones  predominate.  It  is  certain  that  a  proper 
enlargement  and  shaping  of  the  pharynx  and  mouth, 
together  with  a  suitable  fronting  of  the  tone,  is  indispen- 
sable to  the  good  voice.  This  gives  the  condition  for  sym- 
pathetic vibration,  hence  for  developing  that  most  pleasing 
quality  of  effective  voice,  —  full  resonance. 

3.  Exercise  for  shaping  the  pharynx  and  mouth. 

(i)  Stand  erect,  with  lower  jaw  relaxed  and  falling 
(mouth  open),  slight  gaping,  diaphragmatic  impulse, 


98  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

slightly  prolong  the  syllable,  "huh."     The  result  is  a  full, 
unobstructed  resonance. 

(2)  Eliminating  the  technical  exaggeration,  but  retain- 
ing the  typical  form  and  resonance,  gradually  transfer  the 
same  to  any  ordinary  selection. 

4.  Stroke  of  the  glottis.     The  sluggish,  thick,  and  sliding 
action  of  the  vocal  cords  must  be  overcome  by  practice  in 
their  prompt  action.     Giving  a  stroke  of  the  glottis  on  the 
syllable,  "ung,"  well  answers  this  purpose.     This  exercise 
is  an  excellent  preparative  to  the  use  of  the  syllable,  "huh." 

5.  Fronting  the  voice.     The  proper  placing  of  the  voice, 
as  has  been  shown,    involves  fronting  the  tone.      If   the 
pharynx  and  mouth  cavity  are  properly  shaped,  the  tone  is 
deflected  to  the  front  of   the  mouth-cavity,  and  hence  is 
more  skilfully  converted  into  the  different  vowels  and  con- 
sonants.    Another  consequence  of  fronting,  is  the  develop- 
ment of   the  facial  or  bright  resonance  of   the   voice.     It 
favors   also  distinct  enunciation.      For  fronting  the  tone, 
hum,    "ing,"   "ng,"   "le,"   "me,"   "M,"   "ge."     Explode 
"bim,  bim,"  etc. 

"  By  thirty  hills  I  hurry  down, 

Or  slip  between  the  ridges, 
By  twenty  thorps,  a  little  town, 
And  half  a  hundred  bridges." 

TENNYSON'S  Brook. 

In  practice  for  vocal  development,  especially  for  relaxed 
or  unobstructed  vocal  passage,  the  student  should  utilize 
the  emotions  which  naturally  contribute  to  this  end. 
Emotions  of  the  sublime,  of  tenderness  and  sympathy, 
favorably  affect  vocal  development.  I  have  found  that  the 
semi-confidential  and  sympathetic  attitude  toward  the  audi- 
ence has  a  decidedly  good  effect  in  overcoming  the  vocal 
defects  enumerated. 

6.  Purity  of  tone.     For  Purity  of  Tone,  the  several  exer- 
cises  for  support,  for  the  stroke   of   the  glottis   and   for 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  99 

fronting  are  directly  beneficial.  Carefully  avoid  all  blowing 
and  puffing,  and  convert  all  of  the  breath  into  tone.  To  hold 
a  candle-flame  in  front  of  the  mouth,  and  avoid  blowing  it 
while  speaking,  is  a  certain  proof  of  pure  tone.  Practise 
selections  of  cheerful,  ringing  tones  as,  "Ye  bells  in  the 
steeple,"  etc. 

7.  For  flexibility.      Practise  the  intervals  of  the  musical 
scale  ;  the  word  "  char-coal,"  "  cuck-oo,"  slowly  at  first,  then 
rapidly,  changing  the  pitch  on  each  syllable.     Slide,  or  slur, 
up,  down,  on  syllables  as,  "  a,"  "  a,"  etc.     Any  pitch  out  of 
the  range  of  the  individual's  habitual  pitches  is  repugnant 
to  the  ear,  and  care  must  be  taken  not  to  allow  the  ear  to 
dominate  and  restrain  the  voice. 

8.  For  strength.    Practise  projecting  the  tone  to  a  distant 
auditor.     In  this,   sustain  the  voice  as  in  calling,   "Boat, 
ahoy ! "  and  other  distant  calls.     Practise  dynamic  tones, 
striking  with  radical  stress,  and  at  the  same  time  avoid  sym- 
pathetically squeezing  the  throat. 

In  work  for  vocal  development  the  student  must  con- 
stantly keep  in  mind  that  the  voice  may  be  coaxed  into 
proper  conduct,  but  not  driven,  and  that  strength  must  not 
be  urged  beyond  other  qualities.  But  few  persons,  accord- 
ing to  my  observation,  are  disposed  to  give  the  necessary 
patience  and  time  to  secure  the  best  results  in  vocal  de- 
velopment. 

SEC.  II.  Kinds  of  Voice.  —  Each  emotion,  and  the 
sets  of  feelings  called  moods,  unless  inhibited  by  volition, 
and  this  can  be  done  only  to  a  limited  extent,  express  them- 
selves in  corresponding  vocal  forms.  The  more  pronounced 
of  these  forms  we  have  called  kinds  of  voice.  They  are 
as  follows : 

i.  Voice  of  pure  tone.  First,  may  be  distinguished  the 
voice  in  which  pure  tones  are  used.  It  especially  utilizes 
the  facial  or  brilliant  resonance.  It  is  a  normal  voice,  and 
is  expressive  of  plain  thought  and  the  emotions  of  the 


IOO  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

intellect.    Joy,  cheerful  and  agreeable  sentiments,  well  rep- 
resent this  type.     This  tone  is  distinctly  analytic. 

2.  Full  voice.     What  is  here  called  the  full  voice,  also 
variously  called  the  "  orotund,"  the  "  pulmonic,"   and  the 
"  chest  "  voice,  is  the  deep,  full,  strong  voice.      It  calls  into 
use  the  deep  or  chest  resonance.     It,  too,  is  a  normal  voice, 
and  is  expressive  of  strength,  vastness,  grandeur,  sublimity. 
It  is  not  analytic,  but  is  manifestive  of  great  masses  of 
feelings. 

3.  Aspirate  voice.      This  kind  of  voice,  as  a  habit,  is  ab- 
normal.   It  is  the  voice  that  does  not  use  up  all  of  the  breath, 
and  it  has  been  condemned  as  a  vicious  quality.     The  whis- 
per is  its  exaggerated  form.     It  is  expressive  of  undesirable 
conditions  of  mind,  —  of  secrecy,  vagueness,  fear,  darkness, 
moral  impurity. 

4.  Guttural  voice.      This  is  an  abnormal,  throaty  voice. 
It  is  expressive  of  the  malevolent  feelings,  —  of  passions 
that  produce  the  snarl,  the  growl,  and  disgust. 

Besides  the  kinds  of  voice  already  given,  the  late  Profes- 
sor Monroe,  after  the  Delsarte  method,  further  analyzed  it 
into  a  threefold  division.  Somewhat  modified,  these  divis- 
ions are  the  intellective,  the  vital,  and  the  affectional  voice. 

i.  Intellective  voice.  —  The  intellective  type  is  charac- 
terized by  high  pitch,  clear,  hard,  non-flexible  tones.  It  uses 
head  resonance.  Every  word  is  distinct  and  penetrative. 

This  is  the  didactic  voice.  It  is  primarily  cold  and 
factive. 

The  mind  is  discriminative  ;  the  ideas,  ultra-objective  ; 
the  mood,  intense. 

The  teacher,  uninfluenced  by  other  emotions,  falls  into 
the  habit  of  this  voice,  and  must  guard  against  its  exclusive 
use.  To  dull  pupils,  he,  with  all  the  characteristics  of 
this  voice  heightened,  says,  "I  will  explain  this  point 
again,  and  I  trust  that  you  may  understand  it  this  time." 
The  argumentative  quarreller,  insisting  upon  his  own  against 


ELEMENTS    OF   FORCE  IOI 

his  opponent's  facts,  uses  this  voice.     This  type  of  voice  is 
primarily  expressive  of  thought,  and  is  adapted  to  convince. 

It  is  not  forgotten  that  both  anger  ancl  joy ,  sometimes 
express  themselves  on  the  high  pitch  witfo  '<iftgtng  voice. 
But  the  mental  state  is  never  exclusively  intellective*  ;npr 
emotional  ;  so  in  expression,  the  forms 'are  never  etelvsivtly 
appropriated  to  any  type.  It  is  true,  however,  of  the  in- 
tellective type  that  it  expresses  itself  as  we  have  said.  It  is 
characteristic.  Although  joy  and  anger  may  sometimes  ex- 
press themselves  in  the  high-pitched,  ringing  voice,  it  is  not 
the  characteristic  form  for  all  emotions.  Indeed,  emotions 
that  so  express  themselves  may  have  a  large  intellective 
element.  Certainly  this  is  true  of  the  anger  that  employs 
this  tone.  It  grows  out  of  an  urgency  of  my  fact  against 
your  fact,  as  in  quarrelling,  or  a  clear  differentiation  of 
things  that  are  the  cause  of  the  anger. 

2.  Vital  voice.  —  The  vital  voice,  as  a  type,  is  the  oppo- 
site of  the  intellective  voice.     It  is  low  in  pitch,  strong  and 
full.     It  uses  the  chest  resonance,  and  may  be  degraded 
into  the  throaty  voice. 

It  is  recognized  as  the  brute  voice;  it  is  the  voice  of  the 
groan.  Its  lowest  stratum  is  represented  by  the  swag- 
gering bully.  Notwithstanding  these  uncomplimentary  de- 
scriptions of  this  type  of  voice,  in  certain  forms  it  has  a 
legitimate  use.  It  is  expressive  of  ideas  of  power,  of 
strong  passion,  and  sublime  sentiments.  Energy  and  the 
urgency  of  weighty  matter  suitably  employ  this  voice.  It  is 
hortatory  rather  than  didactic.  //  is  expressive  of  strong  and 
urgent  passion,  and  is  adapted  to  move  the  listener. 

In  this  characteristic  voice  the  orator  Mirabeau  urges: 
"  I  exhort  you,  then,  most  earnestly  to  vote  these  extraordi- 
nary supplies,  and  God  grant  they  may  be  sufficient.  Vote 
then  at  once." 

3.  Affectional  Voice.  —  The  affectional  voice  is  char- 
acterized by  medium  pitch,  soft,  smooth,  flexible  tones. 


102  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

This  voice  is  expressive  of  the  aesthetic  feelings.  Senti- 
ments of  kindness,  sympathy,  affection,  and  of  the  milder 
poetic  moods,  maftifest  themselves  by  its  use,  as  do  also 
plain  and  umrr.passioned  thought.  The  affectional  voice  is 
aJap-ted  to  persuade.  \ 

The-use-of  the  three  types  of  voice  maybe  illustrated  as 
follows:  A  father  warning  his  youthful  son  against  the 
folly  of  certain  conduct,  concludes  with  some  irritation : 
"  Now,  the  reasons  for  changing  your  conduct  are  as  clear 
as  noonday;  and  I  trust  that  you  will  be  governed  accord- 
ingly, and  never  repeat  the  folly."  After  a  repetition  of  the 
offence,  the  father,  now  angry,  concludes  an  interview  by 
saying,  "  I  have  argued  the  matter,  now  I  warn  you,  James, 
that  I  will  flog  you  if  you  do  so  again! " 

But  James  is  still  incorrigible.  The  case  is  desperate. 
Arguments  and  threats  have  alike  failed.  The  father  tries 
the  experiment  of  kinder  methods.  "Now,  look  here,  my 
boy,  you  know  how  dearly  we  love  you ;  unless  you  change 
your  conduct  you  will  break  our  hearts.  Let  me  persuade 
you  to  do  as  I  wish ! " 

To  express  the  mental  states  of  the  first  interview  the 
father  would  naturally  use  the  intellective  voice;  at  the 
second,  the  vital ;  and  at  the  third,  the  affectional. 

The  content  of  scientific  text-books  and  similar  matter  is 
distinctly,  but  not  exclusively,  intellective ;  and  is  suitably 
expressed  by  the  corresponding  voice.  In  the  same  way, 
passionate  orations  are  mainly  vital,  and  the  greater  part 
of  poetic  sentiments  affectional.  As  intellective,  emo- 
tional, and  volitional  activity  are  always  present  in  the 
mental  content  of  any  discourse,  no  hard  and  fast  classi- 
fication of  speeches  according  to  types  is  possible.  In 
no  speech  is  the  intellective,  vital,  or  affectional  type  ex- 
clusively present.  One  or  the  other  of  the  types  may  pre- 
dominate ;  but  all  will  be  more  or  less  present,  and  in  best 
literature  blend  in  richest  variety.  When  it  comes  to  the 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  IO3 

divisions  of  the  discourse,  one  part  may  be  vital ;  another, 
mental ;  and  still  another,  affectional. 

To  determine  the  type  of  any  speech,  as  a  whole  or  in 
part,  confirm  your  analysis  by  applying  each  of  the  types 
in  succession. 

To  make  the  type  clear,  try  the  delivery  of  Mirabeau's 
Speech  before  the  Senate  in  the  affectional,  intellective 
voice.  Again,  attempt  the  delivery  of  Alice  Gary's  "Order 
for  a  Picture"  in  the  intellective  or  the  vital  voice.  We  do 
not  assert  that  emotional  expression  never  uses  the  high 
and  ringing  pitch,  nor  that  kind  and  gentle  sentiments 
never  use  low  pitch.  But  that  the  analysis  is  true  for  the 
type  is  easy  of  verification. 

Faults.  The  use  of  the  intellective  (/active  delivery)  for 
all  matter,  and  also  the  use  of  the  vital  voice  in  a  similar 
way,  are  common. 

The  affectional  voice  is  oftener  needed.  All  should  aim 
to  make  it  the  habitual  voice,  rising  to  the  intellectual,  and 
broadening  and  strengthening  to  the  vital  when  necessary. 

SEC.  III.  Inflection.  —  By  inflection  is  meant  the  slide 
of  the  voice  from  one  pitch  to  another.  It  includes  slides 
and  circumflexes.  When  the  tone  slides  from  a  lower  to 
a  higher  pitch,  it  is  called  a  rising  slide  ;  when  from  a 
higher  to  a  lower,  it  is  called  a  falling  slide.  The  distance 
of  the  slide  may  be  a  semitone,  or  any  number  of  tones  to 
the  limit  of  the  individual's  range  of  pitch.  Besides  the 
simple  up  and  down  slides,  the  tone  may,  without  any 
break,  slide  up  and  then  down,  or  the  reverse.  In  the 
former  case  it  is  known  as  a  falling,  and  in  the  latter  as 
a  rising  circumflex. 

Monotone,  or  the  absence  of  slides,  is  an  aspect  of 
inflection. 

Inflection  is  expressive  of  emotion.  As  inflection  is  prima- 
rily expressive  of  emotion,  it  is  consequently  an  element 
of  force.  It  manifests  the  feeling  that  accompanies  the 


IO4  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

thought.     "  It  was  not  what  he  said,  but  the  way  he  said 
it,"  is  a  frequent  tribute  to  the  power  of  inflection. 

Principles  of  Inflection.  —  I.  The  rising  slide  is  pro- 
spective. While  the  emotions  are  on-going,  —  that  is,  while 
there  is  the  feeling  of  incomplete  idea,  —  the  rising  slide 
is  used. 

1.  Rising  tones  appeal:  — 

(1)  To  bespeak  attention  to  something  that  follows,  as 
completing  a  statement. 

(2)  For  solution  of  doubt. 

(3)  For  the  expression  of  the  hearer's  will,  as  in  response 
to  a  proposition. 

(4)  To  question  the  possibilities  of  an  assertion,  as  in 
surprise. 

(5)  Rising  tones  are  deferential. 

II.  The  falling  slide  is  retrospective.    When  the  emotions 
have  rested,  —  that  is,  when  there  is  the  feeling  of  the  com- 
pleted idea,  —  the  falling  slide  is  used. 

2.  Falling  tones  assert :  — 

(1)  To  express  completion  of  statement. 

(2)  To  express  conviction. 

(3)  To  express  the  speaker's  will,  as  in  command,  refusal, 
or  contradiction. 

(4)  To  express  impossibility  of  denial. 

(5)  Falling  tones  are  peremptory. 

III.  The  circumflexes  are  compound  in   their  meaning, 
partaking  of  the  character  of  the  rising  and  falling,  or  of  the 
falling  and  rising  tone ;  these,  then,  are  querulous-assertive 
or  assertive-querulous. 

Circumflexes,  partaking  of  the  nature  both  of  the  rising 
and  falling  slide,  are  used :  — 

(1)  When  the   emotions   are    unsettled,    as    in    mental 
perplexity. 

(2)  In  double  meanings,  as  in  sarcasm,  scorn,  etc. 

(3)  In   conscious  insincerity,   as  when  a  man  of  trade 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  IO$ 

recommends  for  purchase  some  article  with  concealed 
defect.  His  conscience  and  will  opposing  each  other  puts 
the  circumflex  in  the  voice. 

(4)  In  wheedling  and  flattery  ;  there  is  insincerity,  too, 
in  this;  in  complimentary,  comfort-making,  and  coaxing 
moods. 

IV.  Monotone  is  reflective.     It  is  expressive  of  the  sub- 
lime and  allied  sentiments  of  grandeur,  awfulness,  rever- 
ence, etc.     The  mind  is  not  discriminative. 

V.  Semitone  is  expressive  of  the  plaintive  emotions.     It  is 
used  in  grief,  sorrow,  etc. 

VI.  The  length  of  a  slide  is  determined  by  the  strength 
and  intensity  of  the  feeling. 

A  chart  of  the  various  slides  corresponding  to  their  emo- 
tions is  impossible  ;  and  were  it  possible,  I  do  not  see 
how  it  could  be  of  practical  value.  The  slides,  and  all  that 
constitute  the  tune  of  the  speech,  are  even  more  elusive 
than  the  feelings  of  which  they  are  expressive. 

Faults.  —  I  have  noted  the  following  faults  as  more  or 
less  common. 

(1)  Habitual  rising  slides.     These  keep  the  audience  in 
continual    suspense,    and .  give   no   rest.      We   have  heard 
ministers  who  closed  almost  all  positively  constructed  sen- 
tences with  the  upward  slide. 

(2)  Habitual  downward  slides.     These  are  tiresome  ;  for 
the  listening  mind  instinctively  rests  at  the  downward  slide, 
when  lo  !  it  must  up  and  on,  for  the  thought  is  not  com- 
pleted.    Such  delivery  is  humdrum  and  tiresome,  and  heavy 
in  the  extreme. 

(3)  Habitual  circumflex.     This  inflection  lacks  force  and 
dignity. 

(4)  Habitual  semitones  or  minors. 

(5)  Beginning  the  rising  inflection  too  high,  the  falling 
too  low. 

Practice.  —  (i)  Use  the  exercises  as  given  under  "  Flex- 
ibility of  voice." 


IO6  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

(2)  Train  the  ear  to  detect  the  various  inflections.     In 
many  persons  the  ear  resists  any  effort  to  depart  from  ha- 
bitual inflections. 

(3)  Cultivate  the  ability  to  mechanically  give  the  inflec- 
tions at  will. 

(4)  These  faulty  habits  are  due  generally  to  the  moods 
of  the  speaker.     Of  course,  then,  it  is  of  fundamental  im- 
portance to  attack  the  moods.     Only  those  who  have  had 
the  fault,  or  who  have  taught  Public  Speaking,  know  how 
persistent   is  the  minor  or  circumflex  habit.     It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  add  that  only  by  means  of  the  emotions,  real- 
ized through  the  ideas,  can  the  various  slides  be  suitably 
given. 

SEC.  IV.  Rhythm.  —  The  alternate  pulsation  and  re- 
mission with  its  attendant  flow,  well  marked  in  pleasing 
delivery  both  of  prose  and  verse,  are  due  to  the  rhythm  of 
speech.  In  other  words,  rhythm  in  speech  refers  to  the 
periodic  recurrence  of  groups  of  sounds. 

It  is  the  nature  of  the  mind,  in  listening  to  a  series  of 
sounds,  even  when  of  uniform  loudness  and  length,  to  reduce 
them  to  groups.  A  familiar  instance  of  this  is  the  alternate 
loud  and  soft  sounds  attributed  to  the  ticking  clock.  If  one 
sound  of  a  series  be  actually  louder  or  longer,  and  regularly 
recurrent,  the  tendency  to  grasp  sounds  into  groups  is  pro- 
moted, and  the  gratification  of  rhythm  fully  realized.  This 
grouping  is  actually  done  in  English  speech-rhythms,  and 
is  mainly  accomplished  by  means  of  increased  loudness  or 
accent  at  approximately  regular  intervals ; 1  but  the  accent, 
as  Poe  long  since  pointed  out,  lengthens  the  sound  of  the 
syllables,  so  that  the  rhythm-groups  in  English  are  usually 
doubly  marked  off,  by  accent  and  by  length  of  sound. 

Moreover,  the  periodicity  of  the  recurrent  group  is  main- 
tained when  silence  takes  up  a  part  of  the  group. 

1  See  Rhythm,  by  J.  B.  Mayor. 


ELEMENTS   OF    FORCE  IO? 

Nursery  rhymes,  as  Mr.  Sidney  Lanier  has  well  shown, 
furnish  familiar  instances  of  this.  The  first  line  of  the 
following  quotation  from  Tennyson  sufficiently  illustrates 
the  fact:  — 

Break,  |  break,  |  break  | 

On  thy  cold,  |  grey  stones,  |  oh  sea  | 
And  I  would  |  that  my  tongue  |  could  utter  j 

The  thoughts  |  that  arise  in  me.  j 

Pausing  after  "break,"  each  group  or  bar  is  co-ordinated 
with  every  other  group. 

In  the  Journal  of  Psychology  for  January,  1894,  Mr.  T. 
L.  Bolton  describes  some  elaborate  psychological  experi- 
ments made  in  the  study  of  rhythm,  from  which  among 
others  he  deduced  the  following  general  principles:  — 

"  Rhythmic  effects  when  applied  to  poetry  demand  that  the 
accents  in  a  line  shall  recur  at  regular  intervals ;  they  also  require 
that  the  succeeding  feet  in  a  line  shall  be  of  precisely  the  same 
character.  The  introduction  of  a  three-syllable  foot  into  iambic 
(two-syllable)  verse  is  allowable  on  this  condition  only,  —  that  the 
three-syllable  foot  can  be  read  in  the  same  time  as  the  two-syl- 
lable, so  that  there  shall  be  no  disturbance  in  the  temporal 
sequence  of  the  accents." 

English  rhythms  are  not  chanted,  but  conform  to  the 
idiomatic,  spoken  form  of  the  language.  They  are  spon- 
taneous and  free.  Hence,  any  attempt  to  give  direction  for 
the  scansion  of  English  rhythm  must  be  based,  not  upon  the 
appearance  of  the  printed  page,  but  upon  the  sound  as 
heard.1  Theories  that  demand  a  pause  where  no  pause  is 
logically  or  emotionally  required,  that  demand  an  accent 
on  words  that  are  not  accented  in  ordinary  speech,  and 
that  require  that  an  accented  syllable  be  treated  as  though 

1  See  On  Rhythm  in  English  Verse,  in  Papers  of  Fleming  Jenkins :  Long- 
mans, Green,  &  Co.,  1887. 


IO8  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

it  were  not  accented,  wholly  misapprehend  the  nature  of 
English  rhythm. 

For  applying  the  principles  involved  in  English  rhythm, 
the  following  hints  are  given :  — 

1.  Read   according   to   the   idioms   of   spoken   English. 
Avoid  changing  the  accent  to  accommodate  the  meter,  or 
pausing  to  mark  the  separated  foot. 

2.  Run  through  the  selection  to  find  out  the  prevailing 
foot-group.     These   groups  will    co-ordinate  with  one   an- 
other. 

3.  Note  exceptional  foot-groups  that  may  not  be  of  the 
prevailing  type.     To  illustrate,  trochees,  dactyls,  and  other 
feet  will  often  be  found  among  groups  that  are  typically 
iambic. 

4.  The   time  of   the  exceptional    foot-group  must   con- 
form to  the  time  of  the  prevailing  or  typical  foot-group  of 
the  line.     If,    for  instance,   it  is  an  anapaest,   it   must  be 
read  in  the  time  given  to  the  iambic,  if  this  is  the  prevail- 
ing foot. 

5.  The  so-called  extra  syllable  at  the  beginning  or  end 
of  the  line  is  to  be  regarded   as  part  of  a  foot-group  of 
which  a  pause  forms  the  remaining  part.     If  the  extra  syl- 
lable is  accented,  pause  forms  the  unaccented  part  of  the 
group.     If  the  extra  syllable,  however,  is  unaccented,  the 
mind   attributes   accents  to  the  pause  in  much  the  same 
way  that  it  attributes  the  alternate  loud  or  accented  sound 
to  the  ticking  clock.      Filling  out  the  group  by  means  of 
pause   takes  place  also  often  in  other  parts  of  the  line. 
This  frequently  gives  an  extra  group  to  the  line.     Again, 
sometimes  the  sound  of  a  syllable  is  prolonged  to  fill  out 
the  time  of  the  group. 

6.  The  essential  fact  is  the  co-ordination  of  group  with 
group ;  this  requires  that  the  group  have  one  and  only  one 
accent.     The  beat  or  stroke  must  be  firmly  placed  on  the 
accented  syllable. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE 


7.  Observe  that  for  ordinary  ears  slight  variations  do 
not  destroy  the  effect  of  rhythm,  and  that  the  introduction 
of  exceptional  feet  gives  an  agreeable  variety,  and  in  this 
way  furthers  poetic  expression.  Variability  within  certain 
limits  obtains  also  in  the  line-group  or  verse. 

Verses  or  Lines.  —  Rhythmical  delivery  requires  the 
co-ordination  of  line  with  line;  that  is,  that  the  line  be 
given  the  same  time  as  that  with  which  it  corresponds. 
The  time  length,  and  not  the  number  of  syllables,  is  the 
determining  factor.  The  rhyming  words  also  aid  in  mark- 
ing off  the  line-group.  The  rhythmical  ear,  however,  is 
the  main  reliance. 

In  spite  of  all  theories,  the  pausing  in  the  delivery  of 
verse  must  be  according  to  the  logical  requirements,  and  not 
the  exigencies  of  the  line.  Run-on  lines  are  to  be  spoken 
as  such.  If  the  poet  has  not  composed  his  lines  so  as  to 
require  the  middle  and  final  pause,  it  does  violence  to  lan- 
guage to  force  it.  A  speaker,  however,  will  pause  without 
doing  violence  to  the  -thought,  when  the  dull-eared,  con- 
trolled only  by  the  logical  relations,  will  not.  Reading 
run-on  lines  without  pause  at  the  end  of  the  line  amounts 
to  this:  it  introduces  a  line-group  of  exceptional  length. 
This  feature  is  agreeable  rather  than  otherwise. 

Many  persons  are  deficient  in  the  rhythmical  sense.  To 
cultivate  this  sense  it  will  be  found  decidedly  helpful  to 
scan  verse  according  to  the  principles  here  laid  down.  For 
practice,  while  omitting  any  decided  effort  to  read  for  ex- 
pression, and  still  speaking  the  phrase  idiomatically,  exag- 
gerate the  rhythmical  flow.  In  this  practice  the  reader  need 
not  be  afraid  of  "sing-song,"  for  "  sing-song  "  is  a  matter 
of  melody  and  not  rhythm. 

Rhythmical  Prose.  —  Because  of  the  allowable  irregu- 
larities of  blank  verse,  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  it  from 
prose.  The  difference  is  one  of  degree  only.  Mr.  Lanier 
calls  prose  "  a  wild  variety  of  verse."  To  make  but  one 


IIO  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

quotation,  the  co-ordinations  and  rhythmical  character  of 
the  following  sentence  from  Ruskin  is  obvious  to  the  aver- 
age ear :  — 

"There  is  a  saying 
which  is  in  all  good  men's  mouths 

namely, 
that  they  are  stewards, 

or  ministers, 
of  whatever  talents  are  entrusted  to  them." 

SEC.  V.  Melody  of  Speech.  —  In  impressions  of 
Rhythm,  we  simply  regard  the  succession  of  sounds  in 
time,  without  regard  to  change  of  pitch.  In  Melody,  or 
tune,  however,  we  are  impressed  by  a  set  of  successive 
tones  varying  in  pitch. 

Every  language  and  dialect  has  its  own  tunes,  that  are  as 
fundamental  and  expressive  as  its  words  and  grammatical 
forms.  The  part  that  tune  plays  as  revelatory  of  thought, 
is  most  marked  in  the  Chinese  language,  but  is  not  un- 
known in  English.  For  example,  some  soldiers  are  said 
to  have  killed  some  badly  wounded  ^prisoners  by  cutting 
off  their  heads.  It  was  said  afterward,  that  "  if  they  had 
not  they  would  have  died."  Read  with  a  rising  circum- 
flex on  **  not"  and  the  falling  circumflex  on  "  died,"  and 
the  sentence  implies  that  the  prisoners  lives  were  saved 
by  cutting  off  their  heads.  Now  read  with  a  downward 
slide  on  "  not  "  and  also  on  "died,"  and  the  sentence 
means  that  death, was  inevitable  anyway. 

When  we  ask  a  question,  using  the  words,  "  Who  did  you 
say  he  was?  "  the  rising  slide  is  used;  but  when  we  say, 
"  Who  is  he?  "  the  falling  slide  is  used.  The  melody  of 
the  two  otherwise  differs.  Compare  the  Irish  dialectic  way 
of  asking  the  question. 

Melody  or  tunes  are,  however,  primarily  expressive  of 
feelings.  Every  emotion  has  its  own  melody.  There  is 
the  melody  of  joy,  of  sorrow,  of  interrogation,  of  affir- 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  III 

mation;  and  so  on  through  the  whole  range  of  feelings. 
Melody  of  speech  is  elusive.  We  feel  its  force,  and  say, 
"  It  was  not  what  he  said,  but  the  way  he  said  it;  "  1  but 
cannot  reproduce  the  impression.  No  symbols  can  ever 
adequately  reproduce  a  melody  of  emotion.  Melody  is 
the  life  of  speech.  It  is  expressive  of  the  speaker's  indi- 
viduality. It  is  intuitive,  subtle,  irresistible. 

Mr.  Lanier  maintained  that  the  impossibility  of  repro- 
ducing melodies  of  speech  is  owing  to  the  limitation  of  the 
musical  scale.  The  least  interval  of  the  scale  is  a  half-tone, 
whereas  speech  tones  involve  shades  of  a  tenth  of  a  tone,  or 
finer.  However  this  may  be,  trustworthy  musicians  say 
that  no  two  trained  persons  read  in  just  the  same  way  what 
purports  to  be  written  melodies  of  speech. 

Intuition  and  imitation,  it  seems  to  me,  are  the  main 
reliance  in  reproducing  speech-melodies.  Some  general 
characteristics  may  be  given. 

Unsuppressed  joy  expresses  itself  in  high  pitch  and  widely 
varying,  pure  tones.  Pity  uses  minor  tones.  The  sublime 
and  awful  incline  to  the  low  pitch  and  monotone.  Malevo- 
lence and  anger  use  staccato.  Tenderness  employs  gentle 
force  —  medium  to  low  pitch,  sustained  tones.  Bombast 
expresses  itself  in  full,  slow  tones,  circumflexed  ;  gravity, 
in  slow,  moderate  force,  simple  slides. 

Key.  —  Melody  involves  the  key,  or  central  tone.  Each 
emotion  has  it  own  key. 

Faults  of  Melody.  —  i.  The  recurrent  melody.  This  is 
identified  as  "sing-song."  This  is  a  very  common  fault. 

2.  The  habitual  use  of  the  minor  slide.     This  is  the  pa- 
thetic tone. 

3.  The  circumflex  fault.     This  lacks  the  manly,  clear-cut 
tone. 

1  "  Using  cadence  in  an  unusually  extended  sense,  as  comprehending  all 
modifications  of  the  voice,  we  may  say  that  cadence  is  the  commentary  of  the 
emotions  upon  the  propositions  of  the  intellect." — HERBERT  SPENCER'S 
Origin  and  Function  of  Music,  p.  379. 


112  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

4.  The  monotone. 

5.  The  "drift"  of  one  emotion.     In  this,  the  speaker  falls 
into  a  certain   heavy  swing,  and,  ignoring  the  variety   of 
thought  and  feeling,  "drifts  "  along  on  certain  uniformities. 
Akin  to  this  is  a  more  pauseful,  but  still  heavy,  delivery. 

6.  Light  or  flippant  melody. 

7.  Key  on  too  high  a  pitch,  and  again  on  too  low  a  pitch. 
The   former   involves   a  high,   nervous   strain;    the    latter 
induces  throatiness  and  indistinctness. 

In  order  to  eliminate  faulty  melody,  the  student  and 
teacher  must  rely  mainly  upon  the  subjective  treatment, 
that  is,  upon  a  mastery  of  the  content.  It  will  usually 
require  a  teacher  to  locate  the  fault. 

Narrow,  emotional  states,  habitual  to  the  speaker,  must 
be  broken  up;  and  the  mind  be  made  susceptible  of  new 
emotions.  The  mind  must  be  aroused,  and  made  attentive 
and  discriminating. 

SEC.  VI.  Stress.  —  Stress  is  the  way  force  is  applied  to 
the  tone. 

If  applied  abruptly  it  is  called  radical  stress,  as  in  ex- 
ploding "Arm!  "  "arm!"  This  is  a  serviceable  stress  in 
prompt  and  strong  utterance,  and  should  be  clearly  recog- 
nized and  mastered. 

Medium  Stress  opens  with  moderate  force,  swells  to  more 
force,  and  then  diminishes.  It  corresponds  to  the  swell  in 
music. 

This  stress  makes  use  of  the  long  quantity  of  the  vowel. 
It  produces  smooth  and  flexible  tones.  It  is  the  second 
most  serviceable  stress.  "O  precious  word!  " 

Terminal  stress  is  the  opposite  of  radical.  It  is  the  growl. 
"Here  I  stand  and  scoff  you." 

Thorough  stress  continues  the  force  equally  from  beginning 
to  close.  It  is  used  in  placing  the  voice  off  to  a  distant 
point,  and  in  calling,  as  in  "Boat,  ahoy!  "  It  is  a  feature 
of  the  declamatory  style. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  113 

Intermittent  Stress  corresponds  to  tremolo  in  music.  Fre- 
quently speakers  try  to  speak  impressively  by  the  use  of 
this  stress.  Its  proper  use  is  very  limited. 

SEC.  VII.  Loudness.  —  This  term  explains  itself.  Its 
uses  are  rather  obvious,  and  little  need  be  said  upon  it. 
The  speaker  should  avoid  the  extremes  of  feeble  force  on 
the  one  hand,  and  of  noisiness  on  the  other.  This  is  a  point 
at  which  reserved  force  may  well  be  looked  after.  Always 
feel  competent  to  speak  with  loud  force,  but  restrain  the 
effort  and  modify  the  degree  to  the  emotions  involved. 
Vociferation  and  declamation  is  as  empty  as  it  is  loud. 
The  degrees  range  from  gentle  and  moderate  to  loud  and  very 
loud.  In  their  use  "  let  your  own  discretion  be  your  tutor." 

SEC.  VIII.  Time  or  Rate.  —  Time  refers  to  the  rapidity 
or  slowness  of  the  delivery.  It  is  primarily  determined  by 
the  feelings,  hence  is  first  of  all  an  element  of  force.  Four 
degrees  of  rate  are  noted  :  (i)  Quick  rate,  expressive  of  rapid 
movements,  lightness,  slurred  matter,  cheerfulness,  joy,  etc. 
(2)  Moderate  rate,  used  in  simple  narrative,  etc.  (3)  Slow 
rate,  expressive  of  slow  movements,  weighty  matters,  sor- 
rowful sentiments,  obscure  ideas,  profound  feelings,  etc. 
(4)  Very  slow  rate,  expressive  of  ponderous,  labored  move- 
ments, of  very  solemn,  weighty  matter,  of  grave  sentiments, 
of  sublime  emotions,  etc. 

THE    BEGINNING    REQUIRES   SLOW    TIME. 

AT  the  beginning  of  the  speech,  the  listener  is  preoccupied 
with  other  ideas  ;  hence  the  speaker  must  be  distinct,  and  by 
slowness  give  time  to  change  the  train  of  thought.  Then, 
too,  the  speaker  himself  is  more  or  less  preoccupied  with 
thoughts  about  the  audience,  about  himself,  and  many  other 
things.  He  requires  time  to  collect  himself  in  order  to 
fully  concentrate  his  mind  upon  the  proposed  ideas.  Then, 
too,  the  enunciatory  and  other  functions  are  dormant,  and 
must  be  quickened. 


114  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Once  again,  as  the  emotional  parts  of  the  content  prima- 
rily determine  the  rate  of  utterance,  these  must  have  time 
to  mature,  and  so  to  quicken  the  rate.  The  emotion  must 
wait  upon  the  idea;  and  this  requires  time.  For  similar 
reasons,  after  each  transition  the  rate  must  be  slower;  and 
the  more  divergent  the  succeeding  groups,  the  slower  the 
rate  after  each  change. 

Faults.  —  Most  beginners  speak  too  rapidly,  but  slow 
down  with  experience.  Rate  is  relative  to  the  individual  as 
well  as  to  the  matter.  It  is  conceded  that  some  persons  can 
well  speak  more  rapidly  than  others ;  but  every  beginner 
may  suspect  himself  of  trying  to  speak  too  fast.  Since  de- 
livery, when  too  rapid,  mars  the  enunciation,  and  confuses 
the  phrasing  or  grouping,  it  seriously  interferes  with  the  in- 
telligibility of  the  speech.  While  prompt  and  ready  utter- 
ance suggests  a  certain  kind  of  mastery,  it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  word-fluency  is  not  eloquence. 

On  the  other  hand,  dull,  slow,  dragging  utterance,  and 
that  over-pauseful  delivery,  holding  on  to  the  final  syllable, 
and  sometimes  ending  with  an  "  ugh,"  though  not  so  com- 
mon, is  equally  bad. 

In  overcoming  both  hasty  and  tardy  utterance,  main  de- 
pendence is  to  be  placed  in  the  will.  This  ability,  however, 
is  not  commanded  at  a  moment's  notice,  but  is  the  result  of 
discipline. 

Variability  of  rate  follows,  of  course,  the  emotional  move- 
ments of  the  content. 

SEC.  IX.  Climax.  —  Climax  refers  to  a  heightening  of 
the  delivery.  The  most  obvious  elements  of  this  heighten- 
ing are  ascending  pitch,  increased  loudness  and  rate,  cul- 
minating, generally,  with  the  radical  stress.  As  climax  is 
expressive  of  emotional  growth,  it  is  plainly  another  element 
of  force. 

Growth  is  a  well-defined  characteristic  of  all  emotion. 
For  instance,  the  angry  man  grows  more  angry  as  he  dwells 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  115 

upon  the  idea  calling  it  forth;  and  one  grows  more  tender 
by  dwelling  upon  its  idea.  The  same  law  of  growth  applies 
to  groups  of  emotions  as  contained  in  the  paragraph  or 
other  unities  of  the  speech,  and  to  the  composition  as  a 
whole.  The  emotions  connected  with  these  several  groups, 
and  with  the  whole,  gradually  mature,  or  are  more  and  more 
realized  by  the  speaker,  till  they  reach  this  highest  point, 
and  then  subside.  Climax  expresses  this  growth.  The 
counterpart  of  this  growth  is  the  ascending  importance  of 
the  ideas.  Climax  in  delivery  follows  the  rhetorical  climax 
of  the  composition. 

Faults.  The  faults  of  climax  readily  suggest  themselves, 
as  climaxing  too  soon,  too  late,  or  not  at  all.  Every  speaker 
should  guard  against  the  dead  level  of  one  emotional  drift. 
The  emotions  and  their  growth  must  be  realized. 

The  sentence  usually,  but  not  invariably,  begins  on  a  lower, 
proceeds  to  a  higher,  and  then  returns  to  a  lower  pitch.  Some 
sentences  give  exceptional  opportunity  for  climax.  To 
illustrate,  begin  the  following  sentence  on  a  very  low  pitch, 
and  gradually  rise  till  the  word  "devil"  reaches  a  very 
high  pitch,  and  gradually  descend  from  this  word. 

"  O,  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say 
There  was  a  Brutus  once  that  would  have  brooked 
Th'  eternal  devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 
As  easily  as  a  king."  SHAKESPEARE. 

SEC.  X.  Imitative  Modulation.  —  According  to  the 
onomata-poetic  organ  of  language,  imitation  of  the  appear- 
ances and  sound  of  objects  lies  at  the  beginning  of  all 
speech.  With  the  theory  we  have  nothing  to  do  here.  It 
is  obvious,  however,  that  we  now  reproduce  the  idea,  and 
make  it  more  varied  by  imitating  the  sound.  For  instance, 
the  roar  of  the  ocean,  the  boom  of  cannon,  the  hiss  of  the 
snake,  the  rushing  wind,  if  only  slightly  imitated,  aid  in 
recalling  the  idea.  So,  also,  vocally,  the  hugeness  and 


Il6  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

littleness  of  objects,  the  rapidity  or  slowness  of  a  move- 
ment, may  be  represented. 

A  conservative  use  of  this  element  adds  force  to  the 
delivery;  but  overdone,  it  "out-Herods  Herod." 

SEC.  XI.  Gesture.  —  Although  gesture  is  subordinate  to 
voice  as  a  mode  of  expression,  it  still  has  a  value;  and  even 
conservatives  may  well  attend  to  its  development  and  use. 
As  indicating  its  universality  and  naturalness,  Sir  Charles 
Bell  says,  '*  Man  does  not  depend  upon  articulate  language 
alone ;  there  is  the  language  of  expression,  a  mode  of  com- 
munication understood  equally  by  all  mankind  all  over  the 
globe,  not  conventional  or  confined  to  nations,  but  used  by 
infants  before  speech,  and  by  untutored  savages. "  1 

Moreover,  the  effectiveness  of  gestures  is  enhanced  by  the 
fact  that  they  are  directly  and  instantaneously  expressive, 
as  compared  with  speech,  which  is  analytic  and  successive, 
spoken  by  letters,  syllables,  words,  phrases,  sentences.  A 
motion  toward  the  door  shows  the  indignation,  and  gives 
the  order  to  go  more  forcibly  than  any  number  of  words 
that  could  be  spoken. 

Gesture,  in  this  treatise,  includes  all  significant  move- 
ments of  the  body,  including  facial  expression. 

Why  is  the  body  expressive  in  the  way  in  which  we  find 
it  ?  The  psychologists  have  not  yet  agreed  upon  an  answer 
to  this  question;  and  although  it  is  mainly  a  speculative 
one,  it  is  worth  the  while  to  look  at  some  of  the  more  rep- 
utable theories. 

Darwin,  after  an  extensive  study,  treats  the  subject  in  his 
volume  on  the  "Expression  of  Emotion  in  Man  and  Ani- 
mals," and  deduces  three  principles. 

i.  Serviceable  Associated  Habit.  Certain  actions  are  ori- 
ginated because  of  their  serviceableness ;  for  instance,  in 
accordance  with  his  evolutionary  hypothesis,  in  extreme 
rage  the  upper  lip  is  drawn  up  exposing  the  canine  teeth. 

1  Anatomy  and  Physiology  of  Expression. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  117 

This  originated  when  it  was  serviceable  to  the  animal  while 
biting  its  antagonist.  The  spasmodic  movement  of  the 
fingers  in  anger  is  a  relic  of  the  beast  clutching  and  claw- 
ing at  its  prey. 

"Whenever  the  same  state  of  mind  is  induced,  however 
feebly,  there  is  a  tendency,  through  the  force  of  habit  and 
association,  for  the  same  movements  to  be  performed, 
whether  or  not  of  service  in  each  particular  case." 

2.  Antithetic  action.     Certain   acts,  as   has   been  shown, 
are  serviceable. 

"  Now,  when  a  directly  opposite  state  of  mind  is  induced, 
there  is  a  strong  and  involuntary  tendency  to  the  perform- 
ance of  movements  of  a  directly  opposite  nature,  though 
these  are  of  no  use ;  and  such  movements  are,  in  some  cases, 
highly  expressive."  The  angry  dog  enlarges  his  size  to 
appear  formidable ;  the  whipped,  humbled  dog  reduces  his 
size,  and  skulks. 

3.  Action  resulting  from  the  constitution  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, independent  of  the  will,  and  to  a  certain  extent  in- 
dependent of  habit,  as  trembling,  loss  of  color,  etc.     When 
the  brain  is  excited  strongly,  nerve  force  is  generated  in 
excess,  and  is  transmitted  in  certain  definite  directions ;  for 
instance,  reddening  of  the  face  in  rage,  and  perspiration  in 
grief  and  pain. 

Sir  Charles  Bell  holds  that  the  expression  of  the  body 
exhibits  the  design  of  the  Creator.  He  has  shown  how 
intimately  the  vital  organs,  the  heart  and  lungs  especially, 
are  united  to  each  other  and  to  the  muscles  of  the  neck, 
face,  and  chest,  by  a  system  of  nerves.  He  has  also  shown 
how  they  are  affected  by  the  emotions  of  the  mind,  and  says, 
"  Thus  the  frame  of  the  body,  constituted  for  the  support  of 
the  vital  functions,  becomes  the  instrument  of  expression; 
and  an  extensive  class  of  passions,  by  influencing  the  heart, 
by  affecting  that  sensibility  which  governs  the  muscles  of 
respiration,  calls  them  into  operation,  so  that  they  become 


Il8  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

an  undeviating  mark  of  certain  states  or  conditions  of  the 
mind.     They  are  the  organs  of  expression." 

The  following  principles  given  by  Wundt  are  more  sug- 
gestive, and  more  available  in  expressional  practice. 

1.  Principles  of  analagous  associated  feelings.    Feelings  of  a 
similar  emotional  tone  are  easily  connected;  and  when  con- 
nected, the  expression  of  one  is  transferred  to  the  other. 
One  expression,  for  instance,  follows  the  tasting  of  sweet, 
and  another  of  sour,  and  another  of  bitter  substances.    Now, 
all  experiences,  however  ideal  in  their  nature,  possess   a 
tone  analagous  to  that  of  sweet  taste,  etc. ;  and  hence  they 
naturally  express  themselves  by  the  same  external  sign. 

2.  Principles  of  the  relation  of  movements  to  sense  ideas. 
When  we  speak  of  persons  or  objects  that  are  present,  we 
point  to  them;  when  absent,  in  their  direction;  then  we  un- 
consciously imitate  their  shape,  and  measure  their  size  by 
movements  of  the  hand. 

The  Nature  of  Gesture.  —  Gestures  are  mainly  expres- 
sive of  emotion,  and  hence  contribute  primarily  to  force. 
They  are  physical  movements  or  reactions  against  both  real 
and  imaginary  objects.  Gestures  that  seem  to  be  the  most 
subjective  can  generally  be  traced  ultimately  to  emotional 
reactions  against  things  that  have  affected  the  senses. 
Some  of  the  gestures  that  come  under  Mr.  Darwin's  third 
principle  are  exceptions.  If  a  person  points  to  an  imagi- 
nary spire,  it  is  because  he  is  moved  by  a  feeling  of  its 
loftiness  or  of  its  distance. 

Gestures  of  anger  are  reactions  that  arise  with  reference 
to  some  imaginary  object  of  the  anger.  Gestures  of  aver- 
sion, of  endearment,  of  resignation,  of  pride,  of  arrogance, 
and  so  on,  arise  in  the  same  way. 

Subjective  Gestures.  —  Most  gestures  are  expressive 
of  subjective  conditions,  and  are  made  without  special 
intention  toward  the  audience.  They  represent  moods, 
dispositions,  and  passing  emotions.  They  grow  out  of  the 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  I IQ 

feelings,  and  are  less  purposeful  than  other  gestures.  Ges- 
tures, representative  of  personal  states  (joy,  fear,  sadness), 
and  also  many  dramatic  gestures,  may  be  placed  under  this 
head. 

Picture-making  Gestures.  —  In  a  secondary  way,  ges- 
tures grow  out  of  a  desire  to  make  the  ideas  or  objects  of 
the  mind  plain  to  the  auditor.  They  are  illustrative,  just 
as  the  pictures  and  maps  of  the  book  or  daily  newspaper  are 
illustrative.  Gestures  of  this  objective  type,  and  pictures, 
have  a  common  motive.  Under  picture-making  gesture 
two  distinct  classes  are  formed. 

1.  Gestures  of  location.     The  function  of  this  gesture  is 
to  point  out  the  place  of  the  imaginary  object  in  space  and 
in  time.     Objects  in  space  are  represented  as  far  or  near, 
high  or  low.     Objects  in  time  are  referred  to  the  present, 
past,  or  future.     They  point  out  the  direction  of  absent 
persons  or  things. 

2.  Descriptive  gestures.     Akin  to  the  locative  is  another 
illustrative  use  of  gesture,  giving  rise  to  what  are  called 
Plastic  or  Descriptive  gestures.      In  this  use,  some  salient 
feature    or  features   of    the   object   are  represented.       Its 
length,  height,  weight,  or  some  other  feature,  is  suggested. 

This  class  includes  also  gestures  reproducing  \h&  physical 
acts  of  another,  and  gestures  representing  motions  both  as  to 
direction  and  rate. 

Laws  of  Gesture. — The  following  general  principles 
in  one  form  or  another  are  usually  attributed  to  the  so- 
called  Delsarte  system. 

i.  The  attitude  or  bearing  indicates  the  total  self.  The  erect 
attitude,  with  easily  lifted  chest,  free,  easy  carriage,  well- 
poised  bearing,  is  expressive  of  strength,  culture,  grace, 
preparation,  and  favorably  affects  vitality  and  control. 
The  bent  form,  and  shambling  or  awkward  movement,  sug- 
gest feebleness,  lack  of  control,  lack  of  preparedness.  The 
attitude  and  bearing  are  of  primary  importance  in  all  gesture. 


I2O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

2.  Chest-centre.   This  law,  an  aspect  of  the  preceding  one, 
makes  the  chest  the  centre  of  action.      It  utilizes  the  space 
in  front  of  the  body,  and  avoids  side  movements  of  the  arm. 

3.  Buoyancy.     The  law  of  elasticity  or  strength  demands 
that  the  gesture  be  made  on  a  higher  plane,  instead  of  al- 
lowing gravity  to  drag  down  the  body  and  arms. 

4.  Economy.     According  to   the  law  of   economy,  every 
movement  of  the  speaker  should  be  purposeful  and  signifi- 
cant.    Economy  prevents   habitual   movements,   pacing  to 
and  fro,  wild  swinging  of  the  arms,  and  other  movements 
that  are  meaningless  for  the  purpose  at  hand.     This  law 
is  a  particular  aspect  of  the  specialization  of  function. 

5.  Grace.     Curved  movements  are  graceful.     The  prin- 
ciple of   succession  contributing  to  grace,  means  that  the 
gesture  flows  from  the  centre.     Gestures,  of  the  arms  espe- 
cially, are   all   related   to   the  chest.     In  referring  to  the 
spire  of  a  church,   for  instance,   to  stiffen  the  arm,  or  to 
lift   all   of    it   simultaneously,    violates   this   principle   of 
grace.     Instead,  when  properly  done,  the  hand  is  brought 
in  front  near  the  chest;  the  arm  gradually  unfolds  till  the 
hand  points  to  the  spire,  palm  down.     In  this,  the  move- 
ment is  flexible,  and  without  muscular  tension. 

6.  Evolution.     The  expression   centres  in  the   eye,  first 
manifests  itself  there,  and  then  radiates  to  the  extremities 
of  the  body.     The  pugilist  watches  his  antagonist's   eyes 
instead  of   his  fists;  for  the  purpose  and  direction  of  the 
blow  first  manifests  itself  there. 

7.  Symbolization.     According   to  this  principle,   one  can 
treat   ideas  as  he  treats  material   objects.     In  this  case, 
ideas  are  symbolized.     A  cube  of  wood  may  be  employed. 
The  hand  beneath  it,  palm  up,  supports  the  block;  but  on 
the  top  it  crushes  it  down ;  edged  in  front,  it  protects  it ;  at 
the   side,  limits  or  defines ;   removed  from  beneath,   refuses 
support,  and  it  falls;  a  movement  against  it  overthrows  it. 
The  hand,  in  the  same  positions   or  movements,  not  only 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  121 

appropriately,   but  naturally,   expresses  the    same    attitude 
or  action  toward  ideas. 

8.  Sequence.     Gesture  precedes  or  accompanies  the  spoken 
word.     "My  Lord  Northumberland,  we  license  your  depar- 
ture with   your  son."     Just  before   or  while    uttering  the 
word   "departure"  make  a  strong  and  rapid  movement  or 
wafture   of   the  hand  toward   the  door,  signifying,   depart 
immediately.      Make  the  same  gesture  while  or  after  pro- 
nouncing the  word  "son,"  and  mark  the  difference. 

9.  Velocity.     The  rapidity  of   a   movement   is  inversely 
proportionate   to   the   mass   moved.     A   trifling  matter   is 
tossed  off  with  a  quick  movement;  but,  "up  the  high  hill 
he   heaves   a   huge   round   stone,"    is  labored   and    slow. 
Gesture,  representing  motion,  corresponds  to  the  rate  of  the 
motion  represented. 

10.  Opposition.     In  making  a  movement  of  two  parts  of 
the  body  in  gesture,  each  part  should  move  in  an  opposite 
direction,  or  else  a  parallelism  is  perpetrated.     To  illus- 
trate:   If  in  salutation,  the  hand  be  lifted  near  the  face, 
and  the  arm,  body,  and  all  together,  be  moved  forward  in 
bowing,  we  have  a  parallelism.     If,  however,  while  inclin- 
ing the  head  and  body,  we  lift  the  hands,  the  movements 
between  these   parts  are  in  opposition;   then,  moving  the 
head  back  to  the  erect  position,  we  toss  the  hand  out  and 
down  in  opposition. 

11.  Suavity  and  Vehemence.     Tender,  kind  emotions  ex- 
press themselves  in  curved  movements.     Over-excitement, 
"nervousness,"    and   malevolent    emotions   express    them- 
selves in  angular  gestures.     Romeo's  gestures  are  curved; 
Shylock's  are  angular. 

Faults.  —  The  faults  of  gesture  are  the  violations  of  the 
principles  already  given. 

Praxis.  —  I  fear  that  a  disproportionate  amount  of  time 
is  frequently  given  to  gesture.  I  am  convinced,  also,  that 
the  best  results  follow  a  restriction  of  the  work  to  a  few 


122  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

leading  features.  First,  take  suitable  exercises  for  breaking 
up  the  tension  or  rigidity  of  the  muscles.  Secondly,  prac- 
tise a  few  typical  gestures  of  the  objective  type;  and  thirdly, 
let  the  gestures  come  in  connection  with  the  speaking,  and 
then  criticise  them.  The  aim  of  all  practice  is  to  secure 
spontaneous,  graceful,  and  significant  gesture. 

Preparatory  Relaxing  Exercises.  —  The  first  effort 
of  the  student  in  this  connection  should  be  directed  to  free 
the  arms,  in  short,  the  whole  body,  from  all  rigidity;  to 
destroy  habitual  movements  by  counteracting  exercises  and 
general  development.  Then  the  body  is  prepared  to  respond 
to  the  action  of  the  mind.  Only  the  parts  involved  at  the 
time  should  be  used.  The  passive  or  elastic  condition 
should  be  the  prevailing  one. 

1.  Dangle  the  hands,  and  shake  the  arms  freely  from  the 
shoulder,  up  and  down,  whirling  in,  then  out  ;  now  rotate 
the  body  on  the  hip-joints,  letting  the  arms  and  hands  fly 
whither  they  may,  while  rotating  the  body. 

2.  Lift  the  main  arm  until  the  elbow  is  level  with  the 
shoulder.     Shake  it  back  and   forth,    letting  the  forearm 
dangle  to  the  very  finger-tips. 

3.  (i)    Slowly  lift  the  arm  extended  forward  up  as  high 
as  the  level  of  the  head,  then  down,  the  back  of  the  wrist 
leading  while  moving  up,  the  face  of  the  wrist  leading  down, 
while  the  fingers  trail.     Take  care  to  make  the  movements 
from  the  shoulder  easy  and  flowing. 

(2)  Make  this  same  movement;  hands  level  with  the 
shoulders  in  bringing  them  near  together  in  front  ;  then 
out  till  extended  from  the  sides.  Continue  these;  first  (i), 
then  (2). 

In  these  movements,  command  a  steady  body,  and  feel 
balanced  with  the  "sea-poise,"  as  though  buoyed  up  by  a 
surrounding  element. 

4.  Practise  any  exercise  that  will  give  suppleness  to  the 
limbs. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  123 

In  all  these  movements  avoid  muscular  rigidity.  Let 
the  mind  be  easy,  else  the  mental  constraint  will  sympa- 
thetically affect  the  muscles. 

5.  Combination  movement.  Slowly  lift  the  arm  extended 
in  front,  the  fingers  dangling  or  trailing;  when  the  hand  is 
level  with  the  eye,  hold  and  sight  over  the  thumb  to  an 
object  on  the  wall  ;  hold  in  this  position,  and  depress  the 
wrist  ;  the  open  palm  is  now  from  you,  imagine  a  ball 
against  the  palm,  turn  the  hand  out  around  this  imaginary 
ball,  now  the  fingers  are  depressed  and  palm  up  and  out ; 
fold  the  fingers  on  the  palm,  beginning  with  the  little 
finger.  We  now  have  the  half  fist  (thumb  unfolded).  Fold 
this  half  fist  upon  the  forearm,  the  forearm  on  the  main 
arm.  Let  the  half  fist  dip  in  and  down,  the  elbow  moving 
up  in  opposition.  Now  unfold  the  arm,  palm  down,  ex- 
tending with  a  final  thrust,  fingers  straightened. 

This  movement  educates  the  movement  of  the  hand  and 
arm  in  preparing  for  a  gesture,  and  also  combines  move- 
ments found  in  many  gestures.  It  also  educates  the  muscles 
to  nicety  and  precision  of  action. 

In  this  combination,  there  are  at  least  eight  distinct  move- 
ments. These  may  be  resolved  into  three  general  move- 
ments, the  preparation  in  lifting,  the  folding  in,  and  the 
folding  out.  The  latter  is  spiral. 

All  the  above  exercises  should  be  practised,  first  by  the 
right,  then  by  the  left  arm  and  hand,  and  then  by  both. 

Cultivate  muscular  consciousness.  When  the  hands  are 
passive  by  the  sides,  we  feel  their  weight. 

The  criteria  in  the  series  to  follow  will  give  opportunity 
to  carry  out  this  same  principle  of  freeing  the  body,  and 
educating  the  muscles  to  perform  the  most  commonly  used 
expressions. 

As  the  corresponding  emotions  are  associated  with  their 
appropriate  expression,  these  criteria  will  have  the  additional 
advantage  of  the  constructive  element  in  their  practice. 


124  PUBLIC   SPEAKING 

First  Series.  —  i.  Presentation  or  Revelation.  In  this  ges- 
ture, the  hand  is  at  first  partially  closed,  easily  held  in  front 
as  high  as  the  waist,  and  is  then  extended  front,  slightly 
oblique.  One  or  both  hands  may  be  used.  "  Let  us  look  at 
this,"  illustrates  the  type  of  which  this  gesture  is  expressive. 

2.  Extensive,  or  Universal  reference.     Arm,  or  arms,  start- 
ing in  front  of  chest,  extended  level  with  the  shoulder,  palm 
up,  slightly  oblique.     "As  wide  as  the  world,"  "From  one 
extreme  to  the  other,"  give  examples  of  extensive  reference. 

3.  Definition.     Both  hands  brought  in  front,  palms  facing 
each  other,  separated  from  one  to  two  feet.     "  We  are  shut 
up  to  this,"  illustrates  this  type. 

4.  Near  reference.  Arm  easily  thrown  forward,  half  oblique, 
palm  exposed.    "  There  it  is  before  you  in  plain  sight,"  gives 
this  type. 

5.  Far  reference.     Hand  extended  level  with  the  shoulder, 
side  oblique,  palm  down,  fingers  straightened.     "  And  I  on 
the  opposite  shore  will  be,"  affords  an  example. 

6.  Distant  future.     Arm  extended  front,  level   with  the 
shoulder,  palm  of  hand  down. 

7.  Distant  past.     Arm  extended  to  the  rear,  oblique,  level 
with  shoulders,  palm  of  hand  down.     "  The  opportunity  is 
gone  forever." 

8.  Far  reference,  lofty.     Arm  extended,  angle  about  forty- 
five  degrees,  palm  of  hand  down,  index  finger  prominent. 
Type  :  "  Hang  a  lantern  aloft." 

9.  Aspiration,  or  elevated  affirmation.     In  this,  the  hands 
are  thrown  up,  nearly  overhead,  palms  to  speaker.     "  Let  us 
look  up  full  of  hope  and  courage,"  illustrates  this  type. 

All  of  these  gestures  suggest,  if  they  do  not  fully  reach, 
the  chest  as  their  starting-point.  These  and  the  succeed- 
ing series  should  be  practised  till  they  become  spontaneous. 

Second  Series.  — The  following  series  is  mainly  oratori- 
cal in  character. 

i.   Repulsion.     In  repulsion,  the  hand  is  lifted,  palm  out, 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  125 

thumb  near  the  ear.  It  is  then  shoved  out  straight  in  front, 
while  the  head  moves  back  in  opposition.  "  Avaunt,  and 
quit  my  sight !  " 

2.  Attraction  is  the  opposite  of  repulsion.     "  Hark  !  " 

3.  Supplication.     In    supplication,    the    arm    is   lifted   to 
heaven,  the  hand  open,  and  held  half  horizontal.     Do  not 
hold  the  arm  immediately  in  front.     "  Our  Father." 

4.  Appellation.     In  appellation,  the  forearm  is  lifted  per- 
pendicular,  the   palm  of   the   hand   out.     Voting  gesture  : 
"  Aye." 

5.  Affirmation.     In  this  gesture  the  hand  is  thrown  down 
in  front,  the  palm  out.     [He]  "  would  have  brooked  the  eter- 
nal devil." 

6.  Salutation.     The  hand  is  raised  gracefully,  the  head 
inclining  to  meet  it ;  after  they  have  approached  near  each 
other,  the  hand  is  thrown  gently  forward,  the  head  moving  in 
opposition.     The  hand  is  lifted  in  proportion  to  the  amount 
of  deference  or  respect  expressed.     Common  salutation  of 
men  who  are  equals  is  frequently  made  by  a  wafture  of  the 
hand  from  the  lower  part  of  the  chest.     "  Good-morning." 

7.  Negation.     The  arm  is  thrown  across  the  space  in  front 
of  the  student  toward  the  back,  the  palm  down.     "  This  can 
never  be." 

8.  Declaration.     This  is  the  same  movement,  with  the  palm 
of  the  hand  half  up.     "The  North  answers  the  South." 

9.  Rejection.     This   is   the   same    as   negation,   with   the 
thumb  down.     "  Sweep  away  all  opposition." 

Third  Series.  —  The  gestures  in  the  third  series  are 
mainly  dramatic  ;  but  as  they  give  added  variety,  their  prac- 
tice is  helpful  in  oratory. 

1.  Calm  repose.     This  is  the  natural,  easy  position  with 
arms  quiet  by  the  side. 

2.  Resigned  appeal  to   heaven.     In   this  action    the  arm 
without  lifting  is  turned  face  out,  the  hand  is  turned  palm 
slightly  up;  the  face  is  turned  in  opposition,  and  uplifted 
to  heaven. 


126  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

3.  Accusation.     In  accusation,  the  arm  is  stiffened  at  the 
side;  the  eye  first  accuses  and  centres  upon  the  object,  then 
the  stiffened  arm  and  hand  are  lifted  till  the  eye  sees  the 
object  down  the  arm. 

4.  Imprecation.      The   arm    is   elevated   overhead.     The 
hand   is  formed    into   a   claw,  ready  as   a  bird  of  prey  to 
pounce  upon  its  victim. 

5.  Remorse.     The  hand  grasps  the   back   of   the   head, 
forearm  pressing  against  the  face. 

6.  Grief  or  shame.     The  face   is    hidden   by  spreading 
the  hand  over  it. 

7.  Tender  reproach.     Hand  slightly  closed,  drawn  across 
the  chest  away  from  the  object,  while  the  face  is   turned 
upon  it  in  reproach. 

8.  Pathetic  repulsion.     To  express  this  emotion,  the  hand 
moves  toward  the  object  from  the  seventh  position,  while 
the  head  moves  in  the  opposite  direction. 

9.  Benediction.     In   benediction,    the   hands   are    lifted, 
the  backs  up,   extended  front. 

10.  Petition.      Excepting  that  the  palms  are  turned  up, 
the  positions  in  petition  are  the  same  as  in  benediction. 

The  Chest  in  Expression.  —  i.  In  excitement,  courage,  the 
sense  of  vigor,  the  chest  is  expanded.  In  timidity,  anxiety,  pain, 
conscious  weakness,  the  chest  is  contracted.  In  repose,  the  chest  is 
erect  and  normal. 

2.  In  reflection,  the  chest  bends  forward. 

3.  In  sublimity,  the  chest  is  broadened  and  lifted. 

4.  In  attack,  or  vehemence,  the  chest  is  expanded,  broadened, 
and  brought  forward. 

5.  In  despair,  the  chest  is  flattened. 

6.  The  body  leaning  directly  before  an  object  indicates  defer- 
ence. 

7.  The  body  leaning  obliquely  toward  object  indicates  reverence. 

8.  The  body  leaning  back  shows  pride. 

9.  The  body  leaning  sidewise  is  the  attitude  of  wickedness ;  it 
is  fox-like. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  I2/ 

Positions.  — In  physical  and  moral  weakness,  the  gravity  of  the 
earth  beneath  draws  the  body  down.  The  gestures  are  made  on  a 
lower  plane. 

In  spiritual  or  moral  exaltation  the  body  is  lifted,  and  gesture  is 
made  on  a  higher  plane. 

The  Feet  and  Legs  in  Expression.  —  Conscious  weakness  as- 
sumes strong  position,  as  in  the  case  of  the  aged,  infirm,  and  in 
children,  placing  their  feet  far  apart  in  standing  and  walking. 
Conscious  strength  assumes  weak  positions,  as  in  the  case  of  ath- 
letes and  other  strong  persons  keeping  their  feet  nearer  together. 

Gravities.  Three  centres  of  gravity  are  to  be  distinguished. 
The  weight  upon  the  heels  indicates  the  subjective  state  of  mind ; 
the  weight  upon  the  balls  of  the  feet  indicates  the  objective  state 
of  mind  —  a  reaching  out  to  the  auditor;  the  weight  upon  the 
centre  indicates  hesitance  and  balance. 

First  attitude.  In  this  attitude,  the  weight  is  upon  both  feet, 
separated  by  a  few  inches,  and  the  toes  turned  out  at  an  angle  of 
75°.  This  is  a  weak  attitude.  It  characterizes  respect.  If  the 
feet  be  far  separated,  the  expression  is  physical  weakness,  inso- 
lence, familiar  ease,  vulgar  repose,  intoxication. 

Second  attitude.  *'  In  this  attitude,  the  strong  leg  is  back- 
ward, the  free  one  forward."  This  is  the  attitude  of  reflection, 
of  concentration,  of  the  strong  man.  It  indicates  the  absence  of 
passion.  It  has  something  of  intelligence.  It  is  neither  the 
position  of  the  child  nor  of  the  uncultured  man.  It  indicates 
calmness,  strength,  independence. 

Third  attitude.  In  this  attitude  the  strong  leg  is  forward,  the 
free  leg  backward.  This  is  the  attitude  of  vehemence,  of  ener- 
getic action,  of  intense  objectivity,  of  urging  the  speaker's  will 
upon  the  audience. 

Fourth  attitude.  In  this  attitude  the  leg  holding  most  of  the 
weight  is  behind,  but  rather  widely  separated  from  the  advanced 
leg,  and  bent  at  the  knee.  It  is  expressive  of  weakness  following 
terror,  fear,  recoil. 

The  Hand  in  Expression.  —  "  By  representing  the  hands  dis- 
posed in  conformity  with  the  attitude  of  the  figures,  the  old  masters 
have  been  able  to  express  every  different  kind  of  sentiment  in  their 
compositions.  Who,  for  example,  has  not  been  sensible  to  the 
expression  of  reverence  in  the  hands  of  the  Magdalens  by  Guide, 


128  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

to  the  eloquence  of  those  in  the  cartoons  of  Raphael,  or  the  signifi- 
cant force  in  those  of  the  Last  Supper  by  Da  Vinci.  In  these 
great  works  may  be  seen  all  that  Quintillian  says  the  hand  is  capa- 
ble of  expressing :  '  For  other  parts  of  the  body  assist  the  speaker ; 
but  these,  I  may  say,  speak  themselves.  By  them  we  ask,  we 
promise,  we  invoke,  we  dismiss,  we  threaten,  we  entreat,  we  depre- 
cate ;  we  express  fear,  joy,  grief,  our  doubts,  our  assent,  our  peni- 
tence;  we  show  moderation,  profusion;  we  mark  number  and 
time.'"1 

The  part  of  the  hand  exposed  to  the  auditor  is  the  expressive  part. 

1.  The  palm  of  the  hand  is  revelatory.     Exposed  to  the  auditor, 
it  opens  up  the  subject  to  plain  sight.     The  back  of  the  hand  ex- 
presses secrecy,   indefiniteness,  doubt,  and  darkness.     The  edge 
of  the  hand  is  definitive  in  expression. 

2.  Primary  position.     In  the  primary  position  of  the  hand,  the 
fingers  are  differentiated ;  the  first  finger  quite  straight  and  most 
separated;  the  second  and  third  but  little  separated,  and  more 
bent ;  the  fourth  more  separated  from  the  third,  and  more  straight. 
Straighten  the  thumb,  and  separate  from  the  first  finger.     Avoid 
woodenness,  which  results  from  keeping  the  fingers  close  together 
and  straightened  out.     Avoid  spreading  the  hand,  and  also  all 
convulsive  attitudes  of  it.     Leave  them  entirely  alone  except  when 
gesturing,  or  raised  in  preparation  before  the  body.     This  attitude 
should  be  mastered  as  the  habitual  one ;  it  expresses  calm  repose. 

3.  The  fist   expresses   firmness,    conflict,    strength,  concentra- 
tion of  force. 

4.  The  fingers  bent  at  first  joint  is  expressive  of  convulsion 
malevolence. 

5.  The  thumb  falling  into  the  middle  of  the  hand  expresses  life- 
lessness,  lack  of  energy,  and  when  carried  to  extreme,  drunken- 
ness, and  imbecility.     This  faulty  position  is  frequently  seen  in 
speakers. 

6.  The  fingers  and  thumb  opened,  and  the  hand  thrown  up, 
expresses  exultation,  earnestness,  animated  attention. 

7.  The  same  position,  with  the  fingers  stiffened  straight  and 
separated  to  the  utmost,  expresses  exasperation. 

8.  The  hand  closed,  with  the   index  finger  straight,  defines, 

1  The  Hand,  by  Sir  Charles  Bell. 


ELEMENTS    OF    FORCE  I2Q 

points  out  the  way ;  when  the  finger  is  shaken,  it  is  discriminative 
and  threatening. 

9.   The  hand  tossed  from  side  to  side  expresses  impatience. 

The  Shoulders  in  expression.  —  i.  Normal  condition  indicates 
calm  repose.  The  shoulders  elevated,  indicate  passion.  The 
shoulders  depressed,  indicate  feebleness.  The  shoulders  brought 
forward,  indicate  pain.  "The  patient  shrug"  of  the  shoulders 
indicates  helplessness,  resignation. 

"The  face  is  the  mirror  of  the  soul"  because  it  is  the  most 
impressive  part  of  the  body,  and  less  under  the  control  of  the  will, 
and  consequently  the  most  faithful  agent  in  rendering  the  states 
of  the  soul. 

Not  only  may  momentary  emotions  be  read  in  the  face,  but  the  con- 
formation of  the  features  of  the  face  reveals  the  aptitude  of  the  indi- 
vidual, his  temperament  and  character,  always,  of  course,  allowing 
for  the  freedom  of  man  to  will  and  live  above  his  natural  appetences. 

Every  emotion  of  the  soul  writes  itself  upon  the  countenance, 
and  persistency  will  fix  it  there. 

We  have  characteristically  sad,  joyful,  thoughtful,  stupid,  vicious 
faces. 

We  have  seen  the  same  face  undergo  marked  and  sometimes 
remarkable  changes,  as  the  individual  has  changed  his  life.  The 
face  gives  the  hand  more  significance  in  gesture. 

The  Eyes.  — The  eyes  and  ears  are  called  the  organs  of  the 
spiritual  sense.  The  other  organs  of  sense  must  come  in  contact 
with  the  object,  in  order  to  know  of  its  qualities  or  character. 

With  the  ear  we  can  hear  sounds  produced  afar  off;  and  with 
the  eye  we  can  see  the  object  that  impresses  us,  though  many 
leagues  in  the  distance.  The  eye,  then,  is  the  highest  as  an  agent 
of  expression.  It  has  long  been  characterized  as  the  "window  of 
the  soul." 

1.  The  normal   eye  indicates   calm  repose;  the  eyes  partially 
closed,  firmness;   the  eyelids  closed  indicate  stupor;  the  eyelids 
dilated,  and  the  brows  raised,  indicate  astonishment;  the  brows 
held  normal,  and  the  lids  dilated,  indicate  disdain;  the  brows  and 
lids  contracted  indicate  perplexity. 

The  Head  in  Expression.  —  i .  The  head  easily  erect  is  expressive 
of  calm  repose. 

2.  Head  inclined  from  object,  sidewise  to  self,  is  expressive  of 
cunning,  envy,  hate,  suspicion. 


I3O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

3.  Head  turned  away  from  the  object  and  thrown  back  is  ex- 
pressive of  pride,  arrogance. 

4.  Head  inclined  before  the  object  is  expressive  of  contempla- 
tion. 

5.  Head  thrown  back   is   expressive  of  vehemence,  exaltation, 
abandonment  of  self. 

6.  Head  inclined  obliquely  toward  object  is  expressive  of  vener- 
ation, reverence. 

7.  Head  inclined  away  from  object,  nonchalance,  confidence. 

8.  Head  thrown  directly  and  easily  back,  with  uplifted  face,  is 
expressive  of  spiritual  exaltation. 


ELEMENTS    OF    ELEGANCE 


CHAPTER   III 

ELEMENTS   OF    ELEGANCE 

THE  elements  that  gratify  the  aesthetic  nature  are  varied, 
and  in  most  instances  subtle  things,  upon  which  it  is 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  put  the  finger.  The  princi- 
pal ones  are  those  that  give  charm  to  the  literary  style  of 
the  speaker.  A  few  elements  may  be  specially  but  briefly 
considered :  — 

SEC.  I.  Harmony  of  Function.  —  Delivery,  to  be  effec- 
tive for  its  purpose  must  harmonize  the  various  elements, 
so  that  each  feature  shall  be  timely,  accurate,  and  complete. 
It  should  be  without  hitch  or  friction.  Everything  that  jars 
upon  the  feelings  calls  attention  from  the  thought  to  the 
agent.  Not  to  speak  of  such  co-ordinations  as  those  in- 
volved in  the  simplest  alphabetic  element,  the  principal 
relations  involved  in  speaking  may  be  consciously  directed. 
In  brief,  the  idea  must  be  co-ordinated  with  the  word,  as 
imaginatively  seen  or  heard  ;  the  word  with  the  adjustment 
of  the  organs  of  enunciation  (the  breathing,  breath  control, 
pronunciation,  etc.);  the  gesture  with  the  spoken  word; 
and  all  related  to  the  audience.  In  manuscript  or  book 
delivery,  the  idea  is  read  out  of  the  page,  and  the  identical 
language  of  the  page  selected  in  turn  for  the  expression  of 
that  idea.  A  failure  to  co-ordinate  any  of  these  parts  dis- 
turbs the  expression.  Harmony  effectively  suits  the  word 
to  the  action,  and  the  action  to  the  word.  Among  other 
things  it  means  graceful  bearing. 

Another  aspect  of  harmony  is  the  proper  relating  of  the 
various  ideas  of  the  discourse.  It  involves  the  harmony  of 
each  part  to  the  other  and  of  each  to  the  whole. 


132  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Each  speech  or  selection  has  its  own  atmosphere  or  pre- 
vailing emotion  underlying  all  the  variety  of  parts.  It 
gives  the  ideal  and  especially  the  emotional  unity  of  speech, 
and  all  the  parts  must  harmonize  with  this  unity.  The 
atmosphere  of  tragedy  differs  from  that  of  comedy,  and  that 
of  the  funeral  sermon  differs  from  that  of  the  cheerful 
essay. 

Each  part  of  discourse  is  colored  emotionally  by  each 
immediately  adjacent  part.  With  the  ideal  differentiation, 
the  unity  must  also  be  observed.  The  anger  of  one  part 
colors  the  tenderest  sentiment  of  the  adjacent  part.  Words 
introducing  a  quotation  are  colored  by  the  emotion  of  the 
quotation. 

Violation  of  the  principle  of  harmony  manifests  itself 
in  delivering  all  types  of  composition  in  the  same  mood. 
Fits  and  starts  of  emotions  are  most  unexpectedly  intro- 
duced, and  the  delivery  is  fragmentary.  It  is  capriciously 
loud  or  soft,  slow  or  rapid;  the  delivery  is  unsuited  to 
the  mental  content. 

SEC.  II.  Pronunciation.  —  The  word  pronunciation  is 
used  in  the  ordinary  modern  sense.  Elegance  demands 
that  a  word  be  pronounced  according  to  best  usage,  so  far  as 
that  can  be  determined.  Pronunciation  that  suggests  pro- 
vincialism, or  lack  of  ordinary  culture,  offends  the  taste, 
and  calls  attention  away  from  the  ideas  of  the  discourse; 
it  also  weakens  confidence  as  to  the  qualifications  of  the 
speaker,  in  proportion  to  the  obviousness  and  seriousness 
of  the  blunder.  One  should  avoid  calling  attention  to  the 
pronunciation  as  such. 

Absolute  uniformity  in  pronunciation  among  all  those 
who  use  the  English  language  is  quite  impossible;  for  each 
individual  has  his  personal  equation.  Besides,  large  sec- 
tions, equally  creditable  as  authority,  differ  from  one 
another;  and  colloquial  pronunciation  allowably  differs  from 
that  of  formal  discourse.  The  maker  of  each  important 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  133 

dictionary  has  found  it  necessary  to  give  a  long  list  of 
words  variously  pronounced.  The  pronunciation  of  lan- 
guage, too,  is  constantly  changing.  The  pronunciation  of 
Chaucer's  English  is  a  forcible  reminder  of  this  fact.  Ac- 
cording to  Sweet,  the  pronunciation  of  the  London  of  to-day 
differs  widely  from  that  of  a  century  ago.  A.  J.  Ellis  holds 
that  there  are  three  generations  of  pronunciation  at  any  one 
instant,  each  succeeding  one  modifying  the  other. 

A  changed  pronunciation  practised  by  any  considerable 
number  of  educated  speakers  is  first  noted  as  a  "tendency," 
and  finally  recorded  as  the  accepted  pronunciation  of  good 
usage.  For  instance,  there  has  long  been  a  tendency  to 
change  the  long  "  u  "  sound  into  "  6  "  (oo)  sound,  in  situa- 
tions unfavorable  to  its  pronunciation.  The  use  of  "  6  " 
(oo)  instead  of  "u"  after  "r"  is  fully  established  and 
accepted  by  all  recent  authorities.  There  is  no  question 
about  "true,"  "prune,"  "ferrule."  Usage  is  still  divided 
as  to  the  treatment  of  "u"  after  "1."  Is  it  "lute,"  "flue," 
"plume,"  or  otherwise.  After  "t,"  "d,"  "u,"  and  "s," 
usage  is  not  uniform.  There  is  a  tendency  in  all  these 
cases  to  change  "u"  into  "6"  (oo).  After  "t,"  in  such 
words  as  "tune,"  "tube,"  "Tuesday,"  "66"  contends  with 
"u."  After  "d"  (duty,  duly,  during,  dude,  duke),  after 
"n"  (news,  nude),  and  after  "s"  (suit,  insulate,  sewer, 
capsule),  there  is  a  tendency  to  change  "u"  into  "oo." 

Usage  is  undecided  as  to  the  treatment  of  "t,"  "d,"  "s," 
"  z,"  with  the  "  i "  or  "  y  "  sound  after  it  before  another  vowel. 
Are  they  fused  into  "ch,"  "  j,"  and  "sh,"  "zh,"ornot?  The 
struggle  is  between  "  na/ure  "  and  "  nature, "  between  "  grad- 
ual "  and  "gra/ual,"  "  jure  "  and  "^ure,"  "  visual  and  "vizh- 
ual.  But  we  say  vision,  not  vision ;  assure,  not  asure.  Ac- 
cording to  the  Century  Dictionary,  there  is  a  tendency  to 
change  "o"  in  lot  into  "o"  in  song;  also  to  omit  "r"  in 
many  situations.  Sweet  ("A  Primer  of  Spoken  English") 
recorded  "suh"  for  "sir,"  "haad"  for  "hard,"  "haat"  for 


134  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

"heart,"  "staa"  for  "star,"  "pooa"  for"  poor, "etc.,  as  the 
pronunciation  of  "educated  spoken  English."  Such  omis- 
sion of  the  "  r  "  is  not  unknown  in  America.  Murray,  as 
the  editor  of  the  greatest  English  dictionary  ever  projected, 
says,  "  From  the  composite  character  of  the  English  vocabu- 
lary, the  pronunciation  also,  of  many  words  is  in  a  very 
unsettled  state."  He  instances  that  he  heard  the  word 
"gaseous"  pronounced  in  six  different  ways  on  one  occa- 
sion, by  as  many  different  men  eminent  in  science. 

What,  then,  is  to  guide  the  student  in  pronunciation  ? 
Obviously  good  usage.  But  what  is  good  usage  ?  Is  it  the 
usage  of  London,  of  Boston,  of  New  York,  of  Chicago  ? 
Can  any  section  rightly  claim  precedence  ?  What  guides 
do  the  guides  follow  ?  Boswell  once  asked  Dr.  Johnson 
why  he  did  not  indicate  the  pronunciation  of  words  in  his 
dictionary,  urging  that  he  understood  Mr.  Sheridan  had 
done  so;  and  Johnson  replied,  "What  entitles  Sheridan  to 
fix  English  pronunciation?  He  is  an  Irishman!  He  says 
the  example  of  the  best  educated ;  but  they  differ  among 
themselves.  I  remember  an  instance.  Lord  Chesterfield 
once  told  me  that  'great '  must  rhyme  with  '  state; '  Sir  Wil- 
liam Yonge  said  with  '  seat. '  One  is  the  best  speaker  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  the  other  of  the  House  of  Commons." 
The  specialist,  A.  J.  Ellis,  ridicules  any  high  claim  to  a 
standard  of  pronunciation.  When  appealed  to,  he  replies, 
"  I  pronounce  the  word  so  and  so ;  but  I  have  heard  others 
pronounce  it  so  and  so.  I  have  no  means  of  determining 
which  is  the  correct  way."  Henry  Sweet  and  other  distin- 
guished phoneticians  teach  that  there  is  no  absolute  stand- 
ard, and  that  there  may  be  many  correct  ways  of  pronoun- 
cing any  word.  Any  notion,  then,  that  any  one  man  can 
determine  the  pronunciation  of  a  word,  or  that  any  one 
dictionary  decides  the  matter,  shows  a  reverence  for  au- 
thority more  submissive  than  intelligent,  and  totally  fails  to 
appreciate  how  language  is  made.  On  the  other  hand,  those 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  135 

who  claim  that  "language  is  a  life,"  and  not  mechanically 
fixed,  are  likely,  it  seems  to  me,  to  exercise  too  great  free- 
dom in  matters  of  pronunciation. 

No  student  must  conclude,  however,  that  pronunciation 
is  a  matter  of  indifference.  Many  now  in  the  schools  must 
guard  against  the  faulty  pronunciation  of  their  early  sur- 
roundings; elementary  defects  and  narrow  provincialisms 
are  inexcusable.  The  pronunciation  of  any  important  dic- 
tionary, in  all  likelihood,  represents  some  considerable 
number  of  persons,  and  for  practical  purposes  is  entitled  to 
be  regarded  as  authority.  To  the  student,  then,  any  lead- 
ing dictionary  is  a  sufficient  guide.  He  may  feel  reasona- 
bly secure,  also,  if  he  be  sure  he  follows  the  usage  of  a 
considerable  number  of  the  educated  people  of  his  section 
in  any  tendency  to  a  changed  pronunciation,  whether  it  has 
found  the  way  into  a  dictionary  or  not;  and  as  usage,  and 
not  a  priori  principles,  governs,  consistency  does  not  re- 
quire the  student  to  conform  to  any  one  book  exclusively. 

SEC.  III.  Agreeable  Voice. — Voices  that  are  rich 
and  resonant  give  pleasure  to  the  listener.  This  is  due  to 
the  musical  qualities  already  discussed.  Such  a  voice  is 
not  only  pleasing  to  the  ear,  but  suggests  refinement  and 
culture,  and  hence  is  an  element  of  elegance. 

SEC.  IV.  Strong  and  Graceful  Movements.  —  As  the 
advantages  of  strong  and  easy  bearing  and  movement  have 
already  been  shown,  but  slight  reference  to  them  is  neces- 
sary at  this  point.  Strong  and  graceful  movements,  also, 
suggest  strength,  character,  culture,  and  at  once  please  the 
eye,  as  an  agreeable  voice  does  the  ear. 

PHYSICAL    DEVELOPMENT. 

AT  this  point,  not  for  one  only,  but  for  all  the  purposes 
of  Public  Speaking,  Physical  Development  may  properly 
receive  consideration.  It  is  not  our  intention,  however,  to 
present  an  elaborate  system  of  gymnastics,  but  to  briefly 


136  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

treat  the  leading  principles,  and  to  give  a  sufficient  num- 
ber and  variety  of  exercises  adapted  to  classes  where  only 
limited  attention  can  be  given  to  the  subject.  They  will  be 
found  adequate  for  ordinary  practical  purposes. 

Principles  and  Aims  of  Physical  Development. — 
The  ends  of  exercise  are  the  development  of  vital  capacity  and 
strength^  and  the  acquisition  of  correct  habit.  The  former  is 
hygienic,  and  the  latter  educational. 

Dr.  E.  M.  Hartwell,  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  distin- 
guishes between  the  fundamental  and  the  Accessory  mechan- 
ism of  the  body.  In  the  former  class,  is  the  mechanism  of 
respiration,  of  the  heart,  of  locomotion,  etc.  In  the  latter, 
is  the  muscular  mechanism  for  maintaining  the  erect  posi- 
tion, for  the  action  of  the  hand,  for  the  vocal  organs,  etc. 

The  development  of  the  Fundamental  mechanism  means 
increased  vitality  and  strength,  while  the  development  of 
the  Accessory  mechanism  means  skill  and  grace. 

Dr.  J.  Enebuske,  representing  the  Swedish  system,  states 
the  object  of  educational  gymnastics  to  be  "the  harmonious 
relation  of  mind  and  body." 

These  principles  and  aims  of  physical  exercises  are  no- 
where more  serviceable  than  in  exercises  taken  for  purposes 
of  Public  Speaking. 

The  aims  of  exercises,  that  is,  exercises  for  increased 
strength  and  vitality,  and  for  the  development  of  right 
habit,  depend  for  their  realization  upon  the  following 
conditions :  — 

1.  The  accuracy  with  which  any  given  exercise  is  taken. 

2.  The  alternate  tension  and  relaxation  of  the  muscles; 
momentary  rest  alternating  with  action. 

3.  The  repetition   or  frequency  of   the   exercise.     Two 
hours  of  vigorous  exercise  taken  once   a   month   may  do 
more  harm  than  good. 

4.  The  rhythmical  character  or  ease  of  the  movements. 
Rigid   restraint,    constant   tension,   make   hard  work,   and 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  137 

prevent  the  development  desired.  Count  during  the  move- 
ment. Be  deliberate. 

Cultivate  the  sense  of  control  in  all  movements. 

The  vigorous  and  rapid  movements,  breaking  down  old 
tissue  and  renewing  it  more  rapidly,  should  alternate  with 
slower  movements  for  the  purpose  of  gesticular  control. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  free-hand  movements  of  the 
Swedish  system,  especially  promotive  of  grace  and  con- 
trol, may  well  alternate  with  the  exercise  with  weights,  as 
advocated  by  Dr.  Sargent  of  Harvard.  Free-hand  move- 
ments are,  moreover,  more  practicable  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances. 

Avoid  exercise  immediately  before  or  after  a  full  meal. 
Exercise  in  pure  air.  After  long  periods  of  rest,  approach 
the  exercise  gradually,  so  as  to  prevent  unnecessary  lame- 
ness. Stop  before  becoming  fatigued. 

EXERCISES.  First  Series.  —  i.  Stand,  inhale,  hands 
on  chest,  elbows  level  with  the  shoulder;  tap  chest  with 
light  percussive  blows. 

2.  Stand,   both  hands  in  front   of  face,    palm  to   face, 
separate,  pull  back  and  down;  count  two. 

3.  Stand,  toss  both  hands  front,  palm  down,  turn  over, 
clasp  fists,  draw  in,  elbows  at  sides,  fists  below  the  waist 
level,   slightly  out;  count  three. 

4.  Stand,  arms  extended  stiff  by  the  sides,  fists,  bring 
straight  up,  stretch,  rotate. 

5.  Hands  extended  over  head,  bend  forward,  reach  with 
tips  of  fingers,  drop  the  hands,  erect,  bend  back,  flex  to 
right,  to  left,  arms  dangling. 

6.  Hands  on  hips,  bend  forward,   rotate  clear   around, 
now  in  opposite  direction. 

7.  Clasp  hands  back  of  head,  rotate  as  in  Exercise  6. 

8.  Drop  the  head  forward,  rotate  clear  around. 

9.  Bend  back,  face  to  ceiling,  arms  stretched  up,  palm  to 
palm,  separate,  extended  sidewise,  level  with  shoulders,  fist. 


138  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

10.  Stand,  fingers  of  open  hand  on  each  shoulder,  sud- 
denly thrust  the  hands  straight  up. 

11.  Stand,  suddenly  thrust  both  hands  down  by  the  sides, 
extended  fingers,  then  straight  up  over  head. 

12.  Stand,   arms  extended  in  front,  clasp  hands,  rotate 
body  to  left,   to  right. 

13.  Stand  firm  on  right  foot,  swing  the  free  leg;  change 
to  opposite. 

14.  Stand,  rise  on  tiptoe. 

15.  Knead  the  chest  by  putting  the  hands  as  far  up  under 
the   armpits   as   possible,    and  then   squeezing  the   chest. 
This  loosens  the  articulations  at  the  sternum  and  vertebrae, 
allowing  the  ribs  at  the  same  time  to  elevate  themselves 
more  at  a  right  angle,  thus  giving  greater  chest  capacity. 

1 6.  Diaphragmatic  resistance. 

(1)  Place  the  hands  circling  the  region  just  below  the 
floating  ribs,  thumbs  toward  the  back,  deep  breath,  make  a 
continuous  muscular  effort,  hold  breath,  resisting  the  hands, 
hold  sides  firm. 

(2)  Place  the  hands  in  front,  the  fingers  pressing  on  the 
region  of  the  diaphgram,  make  muscular  resistance. 

(3.)  Place  the  half -fist  on  the  region  midway;  muscular 
resistance  as  above.  Practise  i,  2,  and  3  with  continuous 
breathing,  also  with  sudden  breathing. 

17.  Left  fist  well  up  on  the  chest,  half  back,  right  hand 
fingers  on  right  clavical,  breathe,  pressing  against  each  hand. 

Additional  special  exercises  for  "setting  up,"  or  for  the 
erect  attitude. 

1.  Stand,  both  arms  level  with  shoulder,  extended  side- 
wise,  palms  up,  turn  head  to  right,  look  in  palm.     To  left, 
etc. 

2.  Hold   spinal   column  straight,    stoop,   hands  on   the 
thigh,  turn  head  slowly,  looking  right,  left,  etc. 

3.  Hold  spinal  column  straight,  stoop,  hands  on  knees, 
turn  head  looking  right,  left,  slowly. 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  139 

4.  Standing  and  walking  make  the  back  of  the  neck 
touch  the  collar. 

Second  Series. — With  this  series,  light  dumb-bells, 
say  of  one  pound  each,  are  to  be  used.  Lifted  chest.  Re- 
peat each  exercise  according  to  circumstances. 

1.  Arms  extended  from  the  sides,  level  with  the  shoulder, 
rotate  slightly. 

2.  Over  head,  in  a  similar  way. 

3.  Beginning  with  a  bell  on  each   shoulder,   thrust  up 
over  head. 

4.  Beginning  the  same  as  in  3,  open  the  arms  out  side- 
wise. 

5.  (a)  Both  feet  together,  weight  on  left,    step  forward 
with  right;   bring  both  arms  up,  bent  back,   closing  with 
forearm  vertical;  bring  back  to  starting-point. 

(b)  Change  to  right. 

(c)  Same  movement,  stepping  back. 

(d)  Change. 

6.  Pull  bell  up  to  each  armpit;  rise  on  toes. 

7.  Bend  right  and  left,  hands  hanging  down. 

8.  Stand  on  right  foot,  swing  the  left ;  change. 

9.  Rise  on  toes,  stoop,  strike  end  of  bell  on  floor. 

10.  Feet  firm,  stoop,  strike  bells  together  under  the  legs. 

11.  Grasp   both    bells   together,    arms   extended   front, 
rotate  right,  left. 

12.  Both  feet  together,  grasp  bells  together  with  both 
hands,   swing  over  head,  bend  back,  swing  between  legs, 
bending  forward. 

13.  Right   foot   advanced,    swing    as    in     12,    oblique  ; 
change,  left  advanced. 

14.  Bend   back,   face  to    ceiling,   bells    in   front,    bring 
down  level  with  shoulder. 

The  exercises  given  in  Series  I.  and  II.  are  all  that 
classes  generally,  and  persons  primarily  interested  in  de- 
livery, will  care  to  use. 


PART   II 

PRAXIS  IN  DELIVERY 


ANALYSIS   OF 'A   SPEECH 

The  Subjective  Treatment.  —  The  analytic  method 
of  the  book  is  applied  in  the  preparation  of  the  following 
selection.  The  attempt  is  not  intended  to  be  exhaustive, 
but  rather  to  further  illustrate  the  method. 

ANTONY'S   SPEECH   OVER  CESAR'S   BODY. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

1.  I  COME  to  bury  Caesar,  not  to  praise  him. 

2.  The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them ; 

3.  The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones; 

4.  So  let  it  be  with  Caesar.     The  noble  Brutus 

5.  Hath  told  you  Caesar  was  ambitious; 

6.  If  it  were  so,  it  was  a  grievous  fault, 

7.  And  grievously  hath  Caesar  answer 'd  it. 

8.  Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus  and  the  rest 

9.  (For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man; 

10.  So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men) 

11.  Come  I  to  speak  in  Caesar's  funeral. 

12.  He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me: 

13.  But  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious; 

14.  And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

15.  He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 

16.  Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill: 

17.  Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious? 

18.  When  that  the  poor  have  cried,  Caesar  hath  wept: 

19.  Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff : 

20.  Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious ; 

140 


ELEMENTS    OF    ELEGANCE  I4J 

21.  And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

22.  You  all  did  see  that  on  the  Lupercal 

23.  I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown, 

24.  Which  he  did  thrice  refuse :  was  this  ambition? 

25.  Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious; 

26.  And,  sure,  he  is  an  honorable  man. 

27.  I  speak  not  to  disprove  what  Brutus  spoke, 

28.  But  here  I  am  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 

29.  You  all  did  love  him  once,  not  without  cause : 

30.  What  cause  withholds  you,  then,  to  mourn  for  him? 

31.  O  judgment!  thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts, 

32.  And  men  have  lost  their  reason.     Bear  with  me; 

33.  My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Caesar, 

34.  And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me. 

1.  The  Subject  and  purpose  of  the  address.     Brutus  and  his  con- 
federates are  assassins,  enemies  of  Rome,  and  deserve  death.     The 
speaker's  purpose  is  to  excite  the  populace  to  violence. 

2.  The  atmosphere  or  mood.     The  prevailing  emotion  or  mood 
is  that  of  pity  and  simulated  humility. 

3.  Definition  of  words.     Even  when  the  meaning  of  words  is 
familiar,  it  is  well  worth  the  while  to  define  them,  and  to  name 
their  special  qualities.     Observe  how  difficult  it  is  to  define  familiar 
words.     The  attempt  will  frequently  be  like  Justice  Shallow's  at- 
tempt to  define  "  accommodated."     "  Come  "  =  approach,  be  pres- 
ent ;  here,  manifestive  of  purpose.     "  To  bury  "  =  to  inter  a  corpse, 
to   hide  in  the  ground,  to  entomb.     "  Caesar "  —  a  conqueror,  a 
wise  ruler,  a  friend   to  many,  the  assassinated.     "  Praise  "  =  to 
commend  for  virtues  or  worthy  actions,  to  glorify.     "  Evil "  =  in- 
jurious qualities,  bad  qualities,  wrong  deeds.     "  Lives"  =  abides, 
continues.     "The  good "  =  right  deeds,  virtuous  conduct,  helpful 
qualities.     "  Oft "  =  often,  sometimes.     "  Interred  "  =  buried,  put 
under  the   ground.     "  Bones  "==  (here)    body;    literally,   a  sub- 
stance   composing     the    skeleton.      "  Noble  "  =  great,    elevated, 
honorable  reputation.     "  Brutus  "  —  noble  Roman,  a  conspirator, 
a  participant  in  the  death  of  Caesar.     "  Ambitious  "==  desirous  of 
power.     «*  Honorable  "  =  of  distinguished  rank ;  illustrious,  noble. 

4.  Logical  Relations.     "I"  is   the  subject   of  "come."     "To 
bury  Caesar,"   predicate;   "I,"  understood,  subject,  and   [come] 
"  not  to  praise  him,"  predicate.     The  latter  is  antithetic,  but  sub- 
ordinate to  the  first  clause.     "The  Evil"  is  the  subject;  "lives 


142  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

after  them,"  the  predicate.  "  That  men  do,"  modifying  "  evil,"  is 
subordinate.  The  first  and  last  clauses  are  co-ordinate.  "  The 
good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones"  is  the  leading  statement. 
"  So  let  it  be  with  Caesar"  is  less  analytic,  and  is  conclusive.  The 
thought  and  feeling  repose  for  a  while  after  this  sentence.  It  is 
subordinate  to  the  preceding  member  of  the  sentence.  "The 
.  .  .  ambitious"  continually  heightens  to  the  word  "ambitious." 
"If  it  were  so"  is  subordinate  to  the  next  clause.  '*  It  .  .  . 
fault,"  is  made  strikingly  prominent;  the  hypothetical  "if"  is 
kept  rather  out  of  sight,  since  he  does  not  wish  to  question,  at 
this  point,  Brutus's  opinion. 

5.  Elipscs.     The  elipses  will  be  supplied  in  brackets. 

I  come  to  bury  Caesar ;  [but  I  do]  not  [come]  to  praise  him. 

The  noble  Brutus  hath  told  you  [but  has  given  no  proof  that] 
Caesar  was  ambitious ; 

If  it  were  so,  [but  it  is  not],  it  was  a  grievous  fault ; 

Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious  ?  [Obviously,  not.] 

Yet  Brutus  says,  [is  he  to  be  believed?  that]  he  was  ambitious; 

And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  [is  he  not  honorable?]  man 

I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown  [which  shows  he  was  not 
ambitious]. 

6.  The  New  Idea.  —  "  Not  praise  "  is  the  new  idea.      "  Him," 
old  idea,  previously  given  in  the  word,  "  Caesar."     "  Evil,"  new 
idea.     "  Men  "  is  a  new  idea,  but  subordinate.     "  Lives  "  is  a  new 
idea,  and  is  significant  from  what  follows.     "Good"  contains  a 
new  idea.     "Interred"  and  "bones"  are  each  old  ideas,  previ- 
ously given   in    "bury"  and   "Caesar."     "So"   is   a   new  idea. 
"  Brutus"  is  a  new  idea.     "  Ambitions,"  new.     "  Grievous  fault," 
new.     "Answered,"   new.     "To   speak,"   new.     "Friend,"  new. 
"  Faithful,"  "  just,"  "  me,"  each  contains  a  new  idea.    "  Ambitious," 
new. 

The  style  of  this  speech  is  rather  laconic ;  and  being  broken  up, 
and  without  oratorical  continuity,  it  does  not  so  well  illustrate  the 
relation  of  new  and  old  as  many  other  selections. 

7.  Imagination.  —  Picture  the  noisy,  bustling  rabble;  imagine 
the  difficulties  of  the  situation  ;  see  Antony  with  bowed  head,  defer- 
ential and  silent  before  the  crowd,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  body 
prepared  for  burial.     All  of  the  scene   and   occasion  emotionally 
affects  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  and  hence,  also,  the  mind  of  the 
person  who  reproduces  it.     In  the  first  line,  the  reader  looks  at 
the  imaginary  body.     One  naturally  imagines   the  evil   deeds  re- 
peated from  generation  to  generation. 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  143 

The  next  picture  awakened  is  that  of  mouldering  bones ;  then 
the  physical  appearance  of  Brutus,  rather  tall,  erect,  strong,  digni- 
fied, dark  complexioned.  A  little  further  along,  imaginatively, 
Caesar  is  pictured  triumphantly  entering  Rome,  followed  by  a 
captive  train ;  the  gold  of  their  ransom  is  seen ;  next,  in  contrast, 
Caesar,  weeping ;  then  Antony,  presenting  him  a  crown ;  his  wav- 
ing it  aside.  A  few  other  pictures  present  themselves.  The  selec- 
tion, however,  is  not  rich  in  things  of  the  imagination. 

8.  Associated  Ideas.  —  (i)  ".I  come"  suggests  "bury;" 
"  bury,"  "  Caesar,  "  also,  "  praise."  The  next  line  is  rather  discon- 
nected. "  Evil  "  suggests  "men;"  "men,"  "do,"  "lives,"  and 
"  good  ;  "  "  the  good,"  suggests  "  interred  ; "  "  interred,"  "  bones." 
The  second  and  third  lines  are  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  at- 
tributing them  to  Caesar.  "So"  summarizes  and  suggests  the 
two  preceding  lines  and  also  "Caesar."  (2)  "  Praise"  suggests 
*'  blame  ;  "  the  blame  others  have  placed  on  Caesar.  To  the  average 
mind,  it  suggests  some  sympathy  with  Brutus.  "  Evil "  suggests 
possibly  the  evil  of  Caesar.  The  listener  connects  the  association. 
It  is  the  evil  of  men.  "  The  good  "  is  forgotten.  By  association, 
"good"  is  a  quality  of  Caesar.  The  orator  says  let  the  evil  of 
Caesar  live  and  the  good  die.  This  by  implication  seems  to  side 
with  Brutus.  "Bones"  suggests  powerlessness  —  Caesar's  condi- 
tion; hence  he  should  not  excite  resentment.  "  Noble,"  being  a 
complimentary  term,  suggests  approval  of  Brutus's  course.  "  Brutus 
hath  told"  suggests  what  he  told  of  Caesar's  ambition  ;  this,  more- 
over, suggests  agreement  with  what  Antony  is  telling.  Caesar's 
ambition  was  a  fault.  "  J/n  adroitly  slipped  in  — the  first  note  of 
dissent ;  but  not  dwelt  upon.  "  Grievously  answered  it,"  suggests 
forgiveness  and  pity.  The  situation  requires  great  caution.  The 
orator  breaks  in  upon  the  ideas  last  introduced,  and  again  refers 
to  the  superior  power  and  place  of  "  Brutus  and  the  rest."  Pauses 
to  call  them  "honorable."  Repeats  it  twice  at  short  intervals. 
That  word,  "honorable,"  is  the  key-word  to  the  most  important 
association  in  the  oration.  By  repetition  and  concurrent  notions, 
its  opposite  is  suggested  and  attributed,  not  by  the  speaker  (no 
need  of  that),  but  by  the  listener  to  the  conspirators.  The 
eleventh  line  repeats  the  first.  "  Friend,"  "  faithful,"  and  "just," 
awaken  ideas  of  approval ;  "  to  me,"  added  at  last,  allays  all  ques- 
tioning. "But"  suggests  an  antithetic  idea;  "ambitious"  is 
smuggled  in  as  that  idea.  They  have  approved  "  friend,"  "  faith- 
ful," and  "just;"  hence  disapprove  of  "ambitious."  The  next 


144  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

line  is  thrown  in  to  show  agreement  and  to  further  impress 
"honorable"  on  the  listener.  "Many  captives"  suggests  power, 
riches  —  the  material  for  ambition.  "General  coffers  fill"  sug- 
gests generosity,  unselfishness.  This,  together  with  "  Caesar 
wept,"  "  Crown  thrice  refuse,"  suggests  absence  of  ambition. 

9.  Emotions.  —  The  whole  speech  is  given  with  conversational 
simplicity  and  directness.  The  speaker,  however,  is  thoroughly 
alert  and  intense.  Grief  and  assumed  humility  are  the  prevailing 
emotions.  Very  meekly,  he  says,  "  I  come  to  bury  Caesar."  The 
feeling  of  positiveness  or  affirmation  repeats  itself.  "So  let  it  be 
with  C«esar,"  given  with  feelings  of  tenderness  and  yet  positive- 
ness.  From  "  the  "  to  "  fault,"  inclusive,  given  with  lighter  touch, 
and  the  next  line  with  increased  positiveness.  The  next  three  (8-10) 
lines  given  with  feeling  of  simple  statement ;  the  eleventh  line,  the 
positiveness  of  completed  statement.  The  eighteenth  line  is  given 
with  imitative  (slight)  tenderness ;  nineteenth  changes  to  feelings 
of  sternness ;  twentieth  and  twenty-first,  the  feelings  accompany- 
ing simple  statement.  .  .  .  "O  judgment"  .  .  .  "  reason,"  given 
with  regretful  and  censorious  feeling.  "Bear  .  .  .  me,"  given 
with  a  sudden  break  of  overwhelming  grief. 

The  various  changes  of  emotion  are  so  slight  that  they  are  not 
so  easily  described  as  in  many  selections. 

The  oration  as  a  whole,  viewed  as  a  means  to  an  end,  is  a  master- 
piece. From  the  ethical  point  of  view,  it  is  not  defensible.  Almost 
from  beginning  to  end  it  is  a  tissue  of  false  statements.  The  ethics 
of  speech-making  is  an  important  subject.  We  can  take  space  to 
say  only  that  an  element  of  the  new  oratory  is  honesty  and  direct- 
ness. 

The  Objective  Treatment.  —  As  the  purpose  in  analyz- 
ing this  speech  is  to  make  clear  the  method  of  this  book 
rather  than  to  aid  in  its  special  preparation,  and  as  the 
instruction  upon  the  Elements  is  already  full,  and  more  or 
less  familiar  as  a  method  of  treatment,  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  illustrate  their  application  in  this  selection. 

In  dealing  with  the  Elements,  always  remember  that  they 
are  the  counterpart  of  subjective  conditions.  In  determin- 
ing emphasis,  stress,  inflection,  gesture,  etc.,  apply  the 
principles  involved.  Do  not  settle  capriciously  upon  an 


ELEMENTS    OF    ELEGANCE  145 

emphasis  or  slide,  but  give  the  reason  for  its  selection. 
Never  allow  any  stereotyped  form  to  interfere  with  mental 
freedom  and  spontaneity.  In  preparing  a  selection,  pro- 
vide for  growth.  This  involves  change.  The  objective 
treatment  will  be  especially  valuable  in  difficult  places. 
Try  a  certain  kind  of  voice,  inflection,  pause,  or  other  ele- 
ment, and  then  judge  of  it.  In  every  instance  apply  the 
committed  "Scheme." 

PRAXIS  IN  DELIVERY. 

The  leading  types  of  Composition  —  DESCRIPTIVE  and 
NARRATIVE,  ORATORICAL  and  DRAMATIC  —  combine  elements 
peculiar  to  each,  and  afford  opportunity  for  concentrated 
effort  in  practice.  For  practical  purposes,  HIGHLY  IMAGINA- 
TIVE and  METRICAL  SELECTIONS  may  also  be  regarded  as 
types  affording  distinct  opportunities. 

While  carrying  into  practice  all  of  the  sources  and  ele- 
ments according  to  the  "Scheme,"  the  student  will  find  it 
advantageous  to  recognize  the  leading  feature  or  features  of 
any  selection,  and  practise  at  first  with  special  reference  to 
these  features. 

I.   DESCRIPTION   AND   NARRATION. 

Descriptive  and  narrative  selections  emphasize  the  con- 
versational. As  the  conversational  is  the  basis  of  all  effec- 
tive speaking,  and  as  it  is  naturally  the  least  difficult  type,  it 
may  well  be  selected  for  beginning  elocutionary  discipline. 
The  purpose  of  description  and  narration  is  to  give  infor- 
mation in  an  interesting  way.  Its  essential  feature  is  move- 
ment. 

Descriptive  and  narrative  delivery,  while  drawing  upon  all 
of  the  sources,  and  employing  all  of  the  elements  of  effective 
speaking,  is  simple,  direct,  and  distinctly  clear.  Variety  with 
its  differentiation  is  a  marked  feature. 


146  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

The  two  following  selections  will  serve  to  indicate  the 
type:  — 

I.    WHITE   HORSE   HILL. 

THOMAS   HUGHES. 

This  selection  is  taken  from  "  Tom  Brown's  School  Days,"  Chapter  I.  This  and 
other  selections  may  best  be  studied  in  connection  with  the  chapter  or  whole  of 
which  it  is  a  part. 

And  then  what  a  hill  is  the  White  Horse  Hill !  There  it  stands 
right  up  above  all  the  rest,  nine  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
the  boldest,  bravest  shape  for  a  chalk  hill  that  you  ever  saw.  Let 
us  go  up  to  the  top  of  him,  and  see  what  is  to  be  found  there.  Ay, 
you  may  well  wonder  and  think  it  odd  you  never  heard  of  this  be- 
fore ;  but  wonder  or  not,  as  you  please,  there  are  hundreds  of  such 
things  lying  about  England,  which  wiser  folk  than  you  know  noth- 
ing of,  and  care  nothing  for.  Yes,  it's  a  magnificent  Roman  camp, 
and  no  mistake,  with  gates,  and  ditch,  and  mounds,  all  as  complete 
as  it  was  twenty  years  after  the  strong  old  rogues  left  it.  Here, 
right  up  on  the  highest  point,  from  which  they  say  you  can  see 
eleven  counties,  they  trenched  round  all  the  tableland,  some  twelve 
or  fourteen  acres,  as  was  their  custom,  for  they  couldn't  bear  any- 
body to  overlook  them,  and  made  their  eyrie.  The  ground  falls 
away  rapidly  on  all  sides.  Was  there  ever  such  turf  in  the  whole 
world  ?  You  sink  up  to  your  ankles  at  every  step,  and  yet  the 
spring  of  it  is  delicious.  There  is  always  a  breeze  in  the  "  camp," 
as  it  is  called ;  and  here  it  lies  just  as  the  Romans  left  it,  except 
that  cairn  on  the  east  side  left  by  her  Majesty's  corps  of  sappers  and 
miners  the  other  day,  when  they  and  the  engineer  officer  had  fin- 
ished their  sojourn  there,  and  their  surveys  for  the  ordnance  map 
of  Berkshire.  It  is  altogether  a  place  that  you  won't  forget  —  a 
place  to  open  a  man's  soul  and  make  him  prophesy,  as  he  looks 
down  on  the  great  vale  spread  out  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  before 
him,  and  wave  on  wave  of  the  mysterious  downs  behind;  and  to 
the  right  and  left  the  chalk  hills  running  away  into  the  distance, 
along  which  he  can  trace  for  miles  the  old  Roman  road,  "  the 
Ridgeway"  ("  the  Rudge,"  as  the  country  folk  call  it)  keeping 
straight  along  the  highest  back  of  the  hills ;  such  a  place  as  Balak 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  147 

brought  Balaam  to,  and  told  him  to  prophesy  against  the  people  in 
the  valley  beneath.  And  he  would  not ;  neither  shall  you,  for  they 
are  a  people  of  the  Lord  who  abide  there. 

And  now  we  leave  the  camp,  and  descend  toward  the  west,  and 
are  on  the  Ashdown.  s  We  are  treading  on  heroes.  It  is  sacred 
ground  for  Englishmen,  more  sacred  than  all  but  one  or  two  fields 
where  their  bones  lie  whitening.  For  this  is  the  actual  place  where 
our  Alfred  won  his  great  battle,  the  battle  of  Ashdown  ('*  &scen- 
dum"  in  the  chroniclers),  which  broke  the  Danish  power,  and 
made  England  a  Christian  land.  The  Danes  held  the  camp  and 
the  slope  where  we  are  standing  —  the  whole  crown  of  the  hill,  in 
fact.  "  The  heathen  had  beforehand  seized  the  higher  ground," 
as  old  Asser  says,  •«  having  wasted  everything  behind  them  from 
London,  and  being  just  ready  to  burst  down  on  the  fair  vale, 
Alfred's  own  birthplace  and  heritage.  And  up  the  heights  came 
the  Saxons,  as  they  did  at  the  Alma.  The  Christians  led  up  their 
line  from  the  lower  ground.  There  stood  also  on  that  same  spot  a 
single  thorn-tree,  marvellous  stumpy  (which  we  ourselves  with  our 
very  own  eyes  have  seen) ."  Bless  the  old  chronicler !  Does  he 
think  nobody  ever  saw  a  "  single  thorn-tree  "  but  himself?  Why, 
there  it  stands  to  this  very  day,  just  on  the  edge  of  the  slope,  and 
I  saw  it  not  three  weeks  since ;  an  old  single  thorn-tree,  "  mar- 
vellous stumpy."  At  least,  if  it  isn't  the  same  tree,  it  ought  to  have 
been,  for  it's  just  in  the  place  where  the  battle  must  have  been  won 
or  lost  —  «*  around  which,  as  I  was  saying,  the  two  lines  of  foemen 
came  together  in  battle  with  a  huge  shout."  And  in  this  place,  one 
of  the  two  kings  of  the  heathen  and  five  of  his  earls  fell  down  and 
died,  and  many  thousands  of  the  heathen  side  in  the  same  place. 
After  which  crowning  mercy,  the  pious  king,  that  there  might  never 
be  wanting  a  sign  and  a  memorial  to  the  country-side,  carved  out 
on  the  northern  side  of  the  chalk  hill  under  the  camp,  where  it  is 
almost  precipitous,  the 'great  Saxon  white  horse,  which  he  who  will 
may  see  from  the  railway,  and  which  gives  its  name  to  the  vale, 
over  which  it  has  looked  these  thousand  years  and  more. 


14$  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


II.   THE   MAYPOLE   OF   MERRY   MOUNT. 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNS. 
This  selection  is  taken  from  "Twice  Told  Tales." 

Bright  were  the  days  at  Merry  Mount,  when  the  Maypole  was 
the  banner  staff  of  that  gay  colony.  They  who  reared  it,  should 
their  banner  be  triumphant,  were  to  pour  sunshine  over  New  Eng- 
land's rugged  hills,  and  scatter  flower-seeds  throughout  the  soil. 
Jollity  and  gloom  were  contending  for  an  empire.  Midsummer 
eve  had  come,  bringing  deep  verdure  to  the  forest,  and  roses  in  her 
lap  of  a  more  vivid  hue  than  the  tender  buds  of  spring.  But  May, 
or  her  mirthful  spirit,  dwelt  all  the  year  round  at  Merry  Mount, 
sporting  with  the  summer  months,  and  revelling  with  autumn,  and 
basking  in  the  glow  of  winter's  fireside.  Through  a  world  of  toil 
and  care  she  flitted  with  a  dream-like  smile,  and  came  hither  to 
find  a  home  among  the  lightsome  hearts  of  Merry  Mount. 

Never  had  the  Maypole  been  so  gayly  decked  as  at  sunset  on 
Midsummer  Eve.  This  venerated  emblem  was  a  pine-tree,  which 
had  preserved  the  slender  grace  of  youth,  while  it  equalled  the 
loftiest  height  of  the  old  wood  monarchs.  From  its  top  streamed 
a  silken  banner,  colored  like  the  rainbow.  Down  nearly  to  the 
ground,  the  pole  was  dressed  with  birchen  boughs,  and  others  of 
the  liveliest  green,  and  some  with  silvery  leaves,  fastened  by  rib- 
bons that  fluttered  in  fantastic  knots  of  twenty  different  colors, 
but  no  sad  ones.  Garden  flowers  and  blossoms  of  the  wilderness 
laughed  gladly  forth  amid  the  verdure,  so  fresh  and  dewy,  that 
they  must  have  grown  by  magic  on  thiat  happy  pine-tree.  Where 
this  green  and  flowery  splendor  terminated,  the  shaft  of  the  May- 
pole was  stained  with  the  seven  brilliant  hues  of  the  banner  at  its 
top.  On  the  lowest  green  bough,  hung  an  abundant  wreath  of 
roses,  some  that  had  been  gathered  in  the  sunniest  spots  of  its 
forest,  and  others,  of  still  richer  flush,  which  the  colonists  had 
reared  from  English  seed.  Oh,  people  of  the  Golden  Age,  the  chief 
of  your  husbandry  was  to  raise  flowers. 

But  what  was  the  wild  throng  that  stood  hand  in  hand  about 
the  Maypole  ?  It  could  not  be  that  the  fairies  and  nymphs,  when 
driven  from  their  classic  groves  and  homes  of  ancient  fable,  had 
sought  refuge,  as  all  the  persecuted  did,  in  the  fresh  woods  of  the 


ELEMENTS    OF    ELEGANCE  149 

West.  These  were  Gothic  monsters,  though  perhaps  of  Grecian 
ancestry.  On  the  shoulders  of  a  comely  youth,  up  rose  the  head 
and  branching  antlers  of  a  stag;  a  second,  human  in  all  other 
points,  had  the  grim  visage  of  a  wolf;  a  third,  still  with  the  trunk 
and  limbs  of  a  mortal  man,  showed  the  beard  and  horns  of  a  vener- 
able he-goat.  There  was  a  likeness  of  a  bear  erect,  brute  in  all 
but  his  hind  legs,  which  were  adorned  with  pink  silk  stockings. 
And  here  again,  almost  as  wondrous,  stood  a  real  bear  of  the  dark 
forest,  lending  each  of  his  forepaws  to  the  grasp  of  a  human  hand, 
and  as  ready  for  the  dance  as  any  in  that  circle.  His  inferior 
nature  rose  half-way  to  meet  his  companions  as  they  stooped. 
Other  faces  wore  the  similitude  of  man  or  woman,  but  distorted 
or  extravagant,  with  red  noses,  pendulous  before  their  mouths, 
which  seemed  of  awful  depth,  and  stretched  from  ear  to  ear  in 
an  eternal  fit  of  laughter.  Here  might  be  seen  the  Salvage  Man, 
well  known  in  heraldry,  hairy  as  a  baboon,  and  girdled  with  green 
leaves.  By  his  side,  a  nobler  figure,  but  still  a  counterfeit,  ap- 
peared an  Indian  hunter,  with  feathery  crest  and  wampum  belt. 
Many  of  this  strange  company  wore  foolscaps,  and  had  little  bells 
appended  to  their  garments,  tinkling  with  a  silvery  sound,  respon- 
sive to  the  inaudible  music  of  their  gleesome  spirits.  Some  youths 
and  maidens  were  of  soberer  garb,  yet  well  maintained  their  places 
in  the  irregular  throng,  by  the  expression  of  wild  revelry  upon  their 
features.  Such  were  the  colonists  of  Merry  Mount,  as  they  stood 
in  the  broad  smile  of  sunset,  round  their  venerated  Maypole. 

Had  a  wanderer,  bewildered  in  the  melancholy  forest,  heard 
their  mirth,  and  stolen  a  half-affrighted  glance,  he  might  have  fan- 
cied them  the  crew  of  Comfls,  some  already  transformed  to  brutes, 
some  midway  between  man  and  beast,  and  the  others  rioting  in  the 
flow  of  tipsy  jollity,  that  foreran  the  change.  But  a  band  of  Puri- 
tans, who  watched  the  scene,  invisible  themselves,  compared  the 
masques  to  those  devils  and  ruined  souls  with  whom  their  supersti- 
tion peopled  the  black  wilderness. 

II.     ORATORIO    (HORTATORY). 

The  purely  Oratorio  is  distinctly  dynamic,  especially  in 
its  hortatory  form,  and  is  characterized  by  great  energy.  It 
affords  excellent  opportunity  to  practise  the  more  forceful 


I5O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

elements,  —  the  radical  stress,  staccato  movement,  strong 
force,  reserved  force.  The  following  additional  suggestion 
is  made:  Deliver  the  two  following  selections  in  the  sim- 
plest conversational  way;  then  deliver  them  exaggerating 
the  intense  form  (reserved  force) ;  in  the  next  place  deliver 
them  dynamically,  radical  stress  and  marked  staccato  move- 
ment; lastly  combine  all  of  these  elements  in  the  full  and 
finished  form  of  the  type. 


I.    AWAIT   THE   ISSUE. 

THOMAS  CARLYLB. 
This  selection  is  taken  from  "  Past  and  Present." 

1.  IN  this  —  God's  —  world,  with  its  wild,  whirling  eddies  and 
mad,  foam  oceans,  where  men  and  nations  perish  as  if  without  law, 
and  judgment  for  an  unjust  thing  is  sternly  delayed,  dost  thou  think 
that  there  is  therefore  no  justice  ?     It  is  what  the  fool  hath  said  in 
his  heart.     It  is  what  the  wise,  in  all  times,  were  wise  because  they 
denied,  and  knew  forever  not  to  be.     I  tell  thee  again,  there  is 
nothing  else  but  justice.     One  strong  thing  I  find  here  below :  the 
just  thing,  and  true  thing. 

2.  My  friend,  if  thou  hadst  all  the  artillery  of  Woolwich  trun- 
dling at  thy  back  in  support  of  an  unjust  thing,  and  infinite  bonfires 
visibly  waiting  ahead  of  thee  to  blaze  centuries  long  for  thy  victory 
on  behalf  of  it,  I  would  advise  thee  to  call  halt,  to  fling  down  thy 
baton,  and  say,  **  In  Heaven's  name,  no  !  " 

3.  Thy  "  success  "  ?     Poor  devil,  what  will  thy  success  amount 
to?    If  the  thing  is  unjust,  thou  hast  not  succeeded  ;  no,  not  though 
bonfires  blazed  from  north  to  south,  and  bells  rang,  and  editors 
wrote   leading  articles,  and  the  just  things  lay  trampled  out  of 
sight,  — to  all  mortal  eyes  an  abolished  and  annihilated  thing.  .  .  . 

4.  For  it  is  the  right  and  noble  alone  that  will  have  victory  in 
this  struggle ;  the  rest  is  wholly  an  obstruction,  a  postponement, 
and  fearful  imperilment  of  the  victory.     Towards  an  eternal  centre 
of  right  and  nobleness,  and  of  that  only,  is  all  confusion  tending. 
We  already  know  whither  it  is  all  tending ;  what  will  have  victory, 
what  will  have  none !     The  heaviest  will  reach  the  centre.     The 
heaviest  has  its  deflections ;  its  obstructions ;  nay,  at  times  its  re- 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  I$l 

boundings,  its  resiliences,  whereupon  some  blockhead  shall  be  heard 
jubilating,  "  See,  your  heaviest  ascends  !  "  but  at  all  moments  it  is 
moving  centreward,  fast  as  is  convenient  for  it ;  sinking,  sinking ; 
and,  by  laws  older  than  the  world,  old  as  the  Maker's  first  plan 
of  the  world,  it  has  to  arrive  there. 

5.  Await  the  issue.      In  all  battles,  if  you  await  the  issue,  each 
fighter  has  prospered  according  to  his  right.     His  right  and  his 
might,  at  the  close  of  the  account,  were  one  and  the  same.     He 
has  fought  with  all  his  might,  and  in  exact  proportion  to  all  his 
right  he  has  prevailed.      His  very  death  is  no  victory  over  him. 
He  dies  indeed ;  but  his  work  lives,  very  truly  lives. 

6.  A  heroic  Wallace,  quartered  on  the  scaffold,  cannot  hinder 
that  his  Scotland  become,  one  day,  a  part  of  England ;  but  he  does 
hinder  that  it  become,  on  tyrannous,  unfair  terms,  a  part  of  it; 
commands  still,  as  with  a  god's  voice,  from  his  old  Valhalla  and 
Temple  of  the  Brave,  that  there  be  a  just,  real  union  as  of  brother 
and  brother,  not  a  false  and  merely  semblant  one  as  of  slave  and 
master.     If  the  union  with  England  be  in  fact  one  of  Scotland's 
chief  blessings,  we  thank  Wallace  withal  that  it  was  not  the  chief 
curse.     Scotland  is  not  Ireland :  no,  because  brave  men  rose  there 
and  said,  "  Behold,  ye  must  not  tread  us  down  like  slaves ;  and  ye 
shall  not,  and  cannot !  " 

7.  Fight  on,  thou  brave,  true,  heart,  and  falter  not,  through  dark 
fortune  and  through  bright.     The  cause  thou  fightest  for,  so  far  as 
it  is  true,  no  further,  yet  precisely  so  far,  is  very  sure  of  victory. 
The  falsehood  alone  of  it  will  be  conquered,  will  be  abolished,  as  it 
ought  to  be ;  but  the  truth  of  it  is  part  of  Nature's  own  laws,  co- 
operates with  the  world's  eternal  tendencies,  and  cannot  be  con- 
quered. 

II.     NATIONAL   BANKRUPTCY. 

MlRABEAU. 

From  a  speech  before  the  National  Convention  of  France,  1789. 

I.  I  HEAR  much  said  of  patriotism,  appeals  to  patriotism,  trans- 
ports of  patriotism.  Gentlemen,  why  prostitute  this  noble  word? 
Is  it  so  very  magnanimous  to  give  up  a  part  of  your  income  in  order 
to  save  your  whole  property?  This  is  very  simple  arithmetic;  and 
he  that  hesitates  deserves  contempt  rather  than  indignation. 


152  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

2.  Yes,  gentlemen,  it  is  to  your  immediate  self-interest,  to  your 
most  familiar  notions  of  prudence  and  policy,  that  I  now  appeal. 
I  say  not  to  you  now  as  heretofore,  beware  how  you  give  the  world 
the  first  example  of  an  assembled  nation  untrue  to  the  public  faith. 
I  ask  you  not,  as  heretofore,  what  right  you  have  to  freedom,  or 
what  means  of  maintaining  it,  if,  at  your  first  step  in  administra- 
tion, you  outdo  in  baseness  all  the  old  and  corrupt  governments.     I 
tell  you,  that  unless  you  prevent  this  catastrophe,  you  will  all  be 
involved  in  the  general  ruin;  and  that  you  are  yourselves  the  per- 
sons most  deeply  interested  in  making  the  sacrifices  which  the  gov- 
ernment demands  of  you. 

3.  I  exhort  you,  then,  most  earnestly,  to  vote  these  extraordi- 
nary supplies  ;  and  God  grant  that  they  may  prove  sufficient !     Vote 
them,  I  beseech  you ;  for,  even  if  you  doubt  the  expediency  of  the 
means,  you  know  perfectly  well  that  the  supplies  are  necessary,  and 
that  you  are  incapable  of  raising  them  in  any  other  way.     Vote 
them  at  once,  for  the  crisis  does  not  admit  of  delay ;  and,  if  it  oc- 
curs, we  must  be  responsible  for  the  consequences. 

4.  Beware  of  asking  for  time.      Misfortune  accords  it  never. 
While  you  are  lingering,  the  evil  day  will  come  upon  you.     Why, 
gentlemen,  it  is  but  a  few  days  since  that  upon  occasion  of  some 
foolish  bustle  in  the  Palais  Royal,  some  ridiculous  insurrection  that 
existed  nowhere  but  in  the  heads  of  a  few  weak  or  designing  in- 
dividuals, we  were  told  with  emphasis,  "  Catiline  is  at  .the  gates  of 
Rome,  and  yet  we  deliberate."     You  know,  gentlemen,  that  this 
was  all  imagination.     We  are  far  from  being  at  Rome  ;  nor  is  there 
any  Catiline  at  the  gates  of  Paris.     But  now  are  we  threatened  with 
a  real  danger ;  bankruptcy,  national  bankruptcy,  is  before  you ;  it 
threatens  to  swallow  up  your  persons,  your  property,  your  honor, 
—  and  yet  you  deliberate. 

III.  DRAMATIC  TYPE. 

The  Dramatic  is  the  third  type  of  composition.  It  affords 
splendid  discir^ine  in  frequent  and  radical  changes  of  emo- 
tion, in  control,  and  in  broadening  the  moods  and  tempera- 
ment of  the  speaker.  The  practice  of  dramatic  selections 
is  an  excellent  means  for  developing  oratoric  power.  The 


ELEMENTS    OF   ELEGANCE  1 53 

interpretation  of  great  pieces  of  literature  as  found  in  the 
drama  is  a  legitimate  aim,  and  though  achieved  in  a  high 
degree  only  by  genius,  is  well  worthy  the  aim  of  all  for 
its  cultural  value.  The  two  following  selections  are  as 
simple  as  any  that  may  be  chosen  for  this  purpose. 


I.    BRUTUS   AND   CASSIUS. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

This  selection  is  taken  from  "  Julius  Caesar,"  Act  I.  Sc.  ii.    The  student  should 
read  the  whole  play,  and  form  a  definite  estimate  of  the  two  men,  etc. 

Brutus.  What  means  this  shouting  ?     I  do  fear,  the  people 
Choose  Caesar  for  their  king. 

Cassms.  Ay,  do  you  fear  it? 

Then  must  I  think  you  would  not  have  it  so. 

Brutus.  I  would  not,  Cassius,  yet  I  love  him  well. 

But  wherefore  do  you  hold  me  here  so  long  ? 
What  is  it  that  you  would  impart  to  me  ? 
If  it  be  aught  toward  the  general  good, 
Set  honor  in  one  eye,  and  death  i'  the  other, 
And  I  will  look  on  both  indifferently, 
For  let  the  gods  so  speed  me  as  I  love 
The  name  of  honor  more  than  I  fear  death. 

Cassius.  I  know  that  virtue  to  be  in  you,  Brutus, 

As  well  as  I  do  know  your  outward  favor. 
Well,  honor  is  the  subject  of  my  story. 
I  cannot  tell  what  you  and  other  men 
Think  of  this  life,  but  for  my  single  self, 
I  had  as  lief  not  be  as  live  to  be 
In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  I  myself. 
I  was  born  free  as  Cassar ;  so  were  you  : 
We  both  have  fed  as  well ;  and  we  can  both 
Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  he : 
For  once,  upon  a  raw  and  gusty  day, 
The  troubled  Tyber  chafing  with  her  shores, 
Caesar  said  to  me,  Dar'st  thou,  Cassms,  now 
Leap  in  'with  me  into  this  angry  flood, 


154  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?    Upon  the  word, 

Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in, 

And  bade  him  follow :  so  indeed  he  did. 

The  torrent  roared,  and  we  did  buffet  it 

With  lusty  sinews,  throwing  it  aside 

And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy  ; 

But  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  propos'd, 

Caesar  cried,  Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  sink  I 

I,  as  yEneas,  our  great  ancestor, 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulder 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so  from  the  waves  of  Tyber 

Did  I  the  tired  Caesar.     And  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god ;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body, 

If  Caesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  him. 

He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain ; 

And  when  the  fit  was  on  him  I  did  mark 

How  he  did  shake ;  'tis  true,  this  god  did  shake : 

His  coward  lips  did  from  their  color  fly ; 

And  that  same  eye,  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world, 

Did  lose  his  lustre.     I  did  hear  him  groan : 

Ay,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans 

Mark  him,  and  write  his  speeches  in  their  books, 

Alas,  it  cried,  Give  me  some  drink,  Titinius, 

As  a  sick  girl.     Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone.  \Shout  and  flourish. 

Brutus.  Another  general  shout ! 

I  do  believe  that  these  applauses  are 

For  some  new  honors  that  are  heaped  on  Caesar. 

Cassius.  Why,  man,  he  doth  bestride  the  narrow  world 
Like  a  Colossus,  and  we  petty  men 
Walk  under  his  huge  legs,  and  peep  about 
To  find  ourselves  dishonorable  graves. 
Men  at  some  time  are  masters  of  their  fates ; 
The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars, 
But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings. 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  155 

Brutus  and  Cezsar :  what  should  be  in  that  Ccesar  f 

Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours  ? 

Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name ; 

Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well ; 

Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy ;  conjure  with  them, 

Brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Ccesar. 

Now,  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 

Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Caesar  feed, 

That  he  is  grown  so  great?     Age,  thou  art  shanVd 

Rome,  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods  ! 

When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  great  flood, 

But  it  was  fam'd  with  more  than  one  man  ? 

When  could  they  say,  till  now,  that  talk'd  of  Rome, 

That  her  wide  walls  encompassed  but  one  man? 

Now  is  it  Rome  indeed,  and  room  enough, 

When  there  is  in  it  but  one  only  man. 

O,  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say 

There  was  a  Brutus  once  that  would  have  brook'd 

Th1  eternal  Devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 

As  easily  as  a  king ! 


II.     BRUTUS,  CASSIUS,  AND  CASCA. 

SHAKESPEARE. 
This  selection,  like  the  preceding,  is  from  "  Julius  Caesar,"  ACT  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Casca.     You  puird  me  by  the  cloak :  would  you  speak  with  me? 

Bru.  Ay,  Casca ;  tell  us  what  hath  chanc'd  to-day,  that  Caesar 
looks  so  sad. 

Casca.     Why,  you  were  with  him,  were  you  not? 

Bru.     I  should  not,  then,  ask  Casca  what  had  chanc'd. 

Casca.  Why,  there  was  a  crown  offer'd  him  ;  and  being  offer'd 
him,  he  put  it  by  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  thus ;  and  then  the 
people  fell  a-shouting. 

Bru.     What  was  the  second  noise  for? 

Casca.     Why  for  that  too. 

Cass.     They  shouted  thrice  :  what  was  the  last  cry  for  ? 

Casca.     Why,  for  that  too. 

Bru.     Was  the  crown  offer'd  him  thrice? 


156  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Casca.  Ay,  marry,  was't,  and  he  put  it  by  thrice,  every  time 
gentler  than  other ;  and  at  every  putting-by  mine  honest  neighbors 
shouted. 

Cass.    Who  offer'd  him  the  crown? 

Casca.     Why,  Antony. 

Bru.     Tell  us  the  manner  of  it,  gentle  Casca. 

Casca.  I  can  as  well  be  hang'd,  as  tell  the  manner  of  it :  it  was 
mere  foolery ;  I  did  not  mark  it.  I  saw  Mark  Antony  offer  him  a 
crown;  —  yet  'twas  not  a  crown  neither,  'twas  one  of  these  coro- 
nets ;  and,  as  I  told  you,  he  put  it  by  once :  but,  for  all  that,  to  my 
thinking,  he  would  fain  have  had  it.  Then  he  offered  it  to  him 
again ;  then  he  put  it  by  again :  but,  to  my  thinking,  he  was  very 
loath  to  lay  his  fingers  off  it.  And  then  he  offered  it  the  third  time  ; 
he  put  it  the  third  time  by ;  and  still,  as  he  refus'd  it,  the  rabble- 
ment  shouted,  and  clapp'd  their  chapp'd  hands,  and  threw  up  their 
sweaty  nightcaps,  and  Caesar  swooned,  and  fell  down  at  it. 

Cass.     But,  soft,  I  pray  you:  what,  did  Caesar  swoon? 

Casca.  He  fell  down  in  the  market-place,  and  foam'd  at  mouth, 
and  was  speechless. 

Bru.     'Tis  very  like  ;  he  hath  the  falling-sickness. 

Cass.     No,  Caesar  hath  it  not ;  but  you  and  I, 

And  honest  Casca,  we  have  the  falling-sickness. 

Casca.  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by  that ;  but  I  am  sure 
Caesar  fell  down.  If  the  tag-rag  people  did  not  clap  him  and  hiss 
him,  according  as  he  pleas'd  and  displeas'd  them,  as  they  used  to 
do  the  players  in  the  theatre,  I  am  no  true  man. 

Bru.     What  said  he  when  he  came  unto  himself  ? 

Casca.  Marry,  before  he  fell  down,  when  he  perceiv'd  the  com- 
mon herd  was  glad  he  refus'd  the  crown,  he  pluck'd  me  ope  his 
doublet,  and  offer'd  them  his  throat  to  cut :  an  I  had  been  a  man 
of  any  occupation,  if  I  would  not  have  taken  him  at  a  word,  I  would 
I  might  go  down  among  the  rogues:  —  and  so  he  fell.  When  he 
came  to  himself  again  he  said,  if  he  had  done  or  said  anything  amiss, 
he  desir'd  their  worships  to  think  it  was  his  infirmity. 

Bru.     And,  after  that,  he  came  thus  sad  away? 

Casca.    Ay. 

Cass.     Did  Cicero  say  anything? 

Casca.     Ay,  he  spoke  Greek. 

Cass.     To  what  effect? 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  157 

Casca.     Nay,  an  I  tell  you  that,  I'll  ne'er  look  you  i'  the  face 
again :  but  those  that  understood  him  srail'd  at  one  another  and 
shook  their  heads  ;  but,  for  mine  own  part,  it  was  Greek  to  me.     I 
could  tell  you  more  news  too :  Marullus  and  Flavius,  for  pulling 
scarfs  off  Caesar's   images,  are  put   to  silence.     Fare  you  well. 
There  was  more  foolery  yet,  if  I  could  remember  it. 
Cass.     Will  you  sup  with  me  to-night,  Casca? 
Casca.     No,  I  am  promis'd  forth. 
Cass.     Will  you  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ? 

Casca.     Ay,  if  I  be  alive,  and  your  mind  hold,  and  your  dinner 
worth  the  eating. 

Cass.     Good ;  I  will  expect  you. 

Casca.    Do  so :  farewell  both.  \Exit  CASCA. 

Bru.    What  a  blunt  fellow  is  this  grown  to  be !    He  was  quick 
mettle  when  he  went  to  school. 
Cass.     So  is  he  now,  in  execution 

Of  any  bold  or  noble  enterprise, 
However  he  puts  on  this  tardy  form. 
This  rudeness  is  a  sauce  to  his  good  wit, 
Which  gives  men  stomach  to  digest  his  words 
With  better  appetite. 


IV.     IMAGINATION  AND  RHYTHM. 

Selections  of  prose  or  poetry,  introducing  the  imagination 
in  a  prominent  way,  give  excellent  opportunity  for  the 
special  cultivation  of  this  faculty  upon  which  depends  so 
largely  the  essential  of  force  in  delivery.  Without  imagina- 
tion, no  considerable  power  in  delivery  is  possible.  The 
two  following  selections  well  answer  this  purpose.  After 
using  these  two  selections  for  the  development  of  the  im- 
agination and  emotion,  they  may  be  further  used  for  special 
attention  to  rhythm. 


158  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 


I.     PAUL  REVERE'S   RIDE. 

H.   W.   LONGFKLLOW. 

This  selection  is  from  Fireside  Tales. 

I. 

LISTEN,  my  children,  and  you  shall  hear 
Of  the  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere, 
On  the  eighteenth  of  April,  in  seventy-five : 
Hardly  a  man  is  now  alive 
Who  remembers  that  famous  day  and  year. 

n. 

He  said  to  his  friend,  "  If  the  British  march 
By  land  or  sea  from  the  town  to-night, 
Hang  a  lantern  aloft  in  the  belfry  arch 
Of  the  North  Church  tower,  as  a  signal  light,  — 
One,^f  by  land,  and  two,  if  by  sea ; 
And  I  on  the  opposite  shore  will  be 
Ready  to  ride  and  spread  the  alarm 
Through  every  Middlesex  village  and  farm, 
For  the  country-folk  to  be  up  and  to  arm." 

in. 

Then  he  said,  "  Good-night!"  and  with  muffled  oar 
Silently  rowed  to  the  Charlestown  shore, 
Just  as  the  moon  rose  over  the  bay, 
Where,  swinging  wide  at  her  moorings,  lay 
The  "  Somerset,"  British  man-of-war: 
A  phantom  ship,  with  each  mast  and  spar 
Across  the  moon,  like  a  prison  bar, 
And  a  huge,  black  hulk,  that  was  magnified 
By  its  own  reflection  in  the  tide. 

IV. 

Meanwhile  his  friend,  through  alley  and  street 
Wanders  and  watches  with  eager  ears, 
Till,  in  the  silence  around  him,  he  hears 
The  muster  of  men  at  the  barrack  door, 
The  sound  of  arms  and  the  tramp  of  feet, 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  159 

And  the  measured  tread  of  the  grenadiers 
Marching  down  to  their  boats  on  the  shore. 

v. 

Then  he  climbed  to  the  tower  of  the  church, 
Up  the  wooden  stairs,  with  stealthy  tread, 
To  the  belfry  chamber  overhead, 
And  startled  the  pigeons  from  their  perch 
On  the  sombre  rafters,  that  round  him  made 
Masses  and  moving  shapes  of  shade,  — 
Up  the  trembling  ladder,  steep  and  tall, 
To  the  highest  window  in  the  wall, 
Where  he  paused  to  listen,  and  look  down 
A  moment  on  the  roofs  of  the  town, 
And  the  moonlight  flowing  over  all. 

VI. 

Beneath  in  the  church-yard  lay  the  dead 
In  their  night  encampment  on  the  hill, 
Wrapped  in  silence  so  deep  and  still 
That  he  could  hear,  like  a  sentinel's  tread, 
The  watchful  night-wind,  as  it  went 
Creeping  along  from  tent  to  tent, 
And  seeming  to  whisper,  "  All  is  well ! " 

VII. 

A  moment  only  he  feels  the  spell 
Of  the  place  and  the  hour,  the  secret  dread 
Of  the  lonely  belfry  and  the  dead ; 
For  suddenly  all  his  thoughts  are  bent 
On  a  shadowy  something  far  away, 
Where  the  river  widens  to  meet  the  bay,  — 
A  line  of  black  that  bends  and  floats 
On  the  rising  tide,  like  a  bridge  of  boats. 

VIII. 

Meanwhile,  impatient  to  mount  and  ride, 
Booted  and  spurred  with  a  heavy  stride 
On  the  opposite  shore  walked  Paul  Revere. 
Now  he  patted  his  horse's  side, 


I6O  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

Now  gazed  at  the  landscape  far  and  near, 
Then  impetuous,  stamped  the  earth, 
And  turned  and  tightened  his  saddle-girth  ; 
But  mostly  he  watched  with  eager  search 
The  belfry  tower  of  the  Old  North  Church, 
As  it  rose  above  the  graves  on  the  hill, 
Lonely  and  spectral  and  sombre  and  still. 

IX. 

And  lo  !  as  he  looks,  on  the  belfry^s  height 
A  glimmer,  and  then  a  gleam  of  light ! 
He  springs  to  the  saddle,  the  bridle  he  turns, 
But  lingers  and  gazes,  till  full  on  his  sight 
A  second  lamp  in  the  belfry  burns ! 

x. 

A  hurry  of  hoofs  in  a  village  street, 

A  shape  in  the  moonlight,  a  bulk  in  the  dark, 

And  beneath  from  the  pebbles,  in  passing,  a  spark 

Struck  out  by  a  steed  flying  fearless  and  fleet  : 

That  was  all !    And  yet,  through  the  gloom  and  the  light. 

The  fate  of  a  nation  was  riding  that  night ; 

And  the  spark  struck  out  by  that  steed,  in  his  flight, 

Kindled  the  land  into  flame  with  its  heat. 

XI. 

You  know  the  rest.     In  the  books  you  have  read 
How  the  British  regulars  fired  and  fled,  — 
How  the  farmers  gave  them  ball  for  ball, 
From  behind  each  fence  and  farm-yard  wall, 
Chasing  the  redcoats  down  the  lane, 
Then  crossing  the  fields  to  emerge  again 
Under  the  trees  at  the  turn  of  the  road, 
And  only  pausing  to  fire  and  load. 

XII. 

So  through  the  night  rode  Paul  Revere ; 
And  so  through  the  night  went  his  cry  of  alarm 
To  every  Middlesex  village  and  farm,  — 
A  cry  of  defiance  and  not  of  fear,  — 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  l6l 

A  voice  in  the  darkness,  a  knock  at  the  door, 
And  a  word  that  shall  echo  forevermore ! 
For,  borne  on  the  night-wind  of  the  Past, 
Through  all  our  history,  to  the  last, 
In  the  hour  of  darkness  and  peril  and  need, 
The  people  will  waken  and  listen  to  hear 
The  hurrying  hoof-beats  of  that  steed, 
And  the  midnight  message  of  Paul  Revere. 


II.    AN  ORDER  FOR  A  PICTURE. 

ALICB  GARY. 
Light  touch.    Emotional  content  a  leading  feature. 

O  GOOD  painter,  tell  me  true, 

Has  your  hand  the  cunning  to  draw 
Shapes  of  things  you  never  saw  ? 

Ay?    Well,  here  is  an  order  for  you. 

Woods  and  cornfields,  a  little  brown,  — 
The  picture  must  not  be  over-bright, 
Yet  all  in  the  golden  and  gracious  light 

Of  a  cloud,  when  the  summer  sun  is  down. 
Alway  and  alway,  night  and  morn, 
Woods  upon  woods,  with  fields  of  corn 
Lying  between  them,  not  quite  sere, 

And  not  in  the  full,  thick,  leafy  bloom, 

When  the  wind  can  hardly  find  breathing-room 
Under  their  tassels,  —  cattle  near, 

Biting  shorter  the  short  green  grass, 
And  a  hedge  of  sumach  and  sassafras, 
With  bluebirds  twittering  all  around,  — 
(Ah,  good  painter,  you  Can't  paint  sound  ! ) 
These,  and  the  house  where  I  was  born, 
Low  and  little,  and  black  and  old, 
With  children,  many  as  it  can  hold, 
All  at  the  windows,  open  wide,  — 
Heads  and  shoulders  clear  outside, 


162  PUBLIC    SPEAKING 

And  fair  young  faces  all  ablush : 

Perhaps  you  may  have  seen,  some  day, 
Roses  crowding  the  self-same  way, 

Out  of  a  wilding,  wayside  bush 

Listen  closer.     When  you  have  done 
With  woods  and  cornfields  and  grazing  herds, 

A  lady,  the  loveliest  ever  the  sun 
Looked  down  upon,  you  must  paint  for  me ; 
Oh,  if  I  only  could  make  you  see 

The  clear  blue  eyes,  the  tender  smile, 
The  sovereign  sweetness,  the  gentle  grace, 
The  woman's  soul,  and  the  angel's  face, 

That  are  beaming  on  me  all  the  while, 

I  need  not  speak  these  foolish  words : 

Yet  one  word  tells  you  all  I  would  say,  — 
She  is  my  mother :  you  will  agree 

That  all  the  rest  may  be  thrown  away. 

Two  little  urchins  at  her  knee 
You  must  paint,  sir ;  one  like  me, 
The  other  with  a  clearer  brow, 

And  the  light  of  his  adventurous  eyes 

Flashing  with  boldest  enterprise  : 
At  ten  years  old  he  went  to  sea,  — 
God  knoweth  if  he  be  living  now ; 

He  sailed  in  the  good  ship  "Commodore,"  — 
Nobody  ever  crossed  her  track 
To  bring  us  news,  and  she  never  came  back. 

Ah,  'tis  twenty  long  years  and  more 
Since  that  old  ship  went  out  of  the  bay 

With  my  great-hearted  brother  on  her  deck : 

I  watched  him  till  he  shrank  to  a  speck, 
And  his  face  was  towards  me  all  the  way. 
Bright  his  hair  was,  a  golden  brown, 

The  time  we  stood  at  our  mother's  knee : 
That  beauteous  head,  if  it  did  go  down, 

Carried  sunshine  into  the  sea ! 

Out  in  the  fields  one  summer  night 
We  were  together,  half  afraid 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELEGANCE  163 

Of  the  corn-leaves'  rustling,  and  of  the  shade 

Of  the  high  hills,  stretching  so  still  and  far,  — 
Loitering  till  after  the  low  little  light 

Of  the  candle  shone  through  the  open  door. 

Afraid  to  go  home,  sir ;  for  one  of  us  bore 
A  nest  full  of  speckled  and  thin-shelled  eggs ; 
The  other,  a  bird,  held  fast  by  the  legs, 
Not  so  big  as  a  straw  of  wheat : 
The  berries  we  gave  her  she  wouldn't  eat, 
But  cried  and  cried,  till  we  held  her  bill, 
So  slim  and  shining,  to  keep  her  still. 

At  last  we  stood  at  our  mother's  knee. 

Do  you  think,  sir,  if  you  try, 

You  could  paint  the  look  of  a  lie  ? 

If  you  can,  pray  have  the  grace 

To  put  it  solely  in  the  face 
Of  the  urchin  that  is  likest  me : 

I  think  'twas  solely  mine,  indeed : 
But  that's  no  matter,  —  paint  it  so ; 

The  eyes  of  my  mother  —  (take  good  heed) 
Looking  not  on  the  nestful  of  eggs, 
Nor  the  fluttering  bird  held  so  fast  by  the  legs, 
But  straight  through  our  faces  down  to  our  lies, 
And  oh,  with  such  injured,  reproachful  surprise ! 

I  felt  my  heart  bleed  where  that  glance  went,  as  though 

A  sharp  blade  struck  through  it. 

You,  sir,  know 

That  you  on  the  canvas  are  to  repeat 
Things  that  are  fairest,  things  most  sweet,  — 
Woods  and  cornfields  and  mulberry -tree,  — 
The  mother,  —  the  lads,  with  their  bird,  at  her  knee: 

But,  oh,  that  look  of  reproachful  woe ! 
High  as  the  heavens  your  name  I'll  shout, 
If  you  paint  me  the  picture,  and  leave  that  out. 


SELECTIONS 


SKILL  AND   BEAUTY   IN   ART. 

JOHN  RUSKIN. 
From  The  Relation  of  Use  to  Art  in  "  The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive." 

Now,  I  pray  you  to  observe  —  for  though  I  have  said  this  often 
before,  I  have  never  yet  said  it  clearly  enough  —  every  good  piece 
of  art  .  .  .  involves  first  essentially  the  evidence  of  human  skill, 
and  the  formation  of  an  actually  beautiful  thing  by  it. 

Skill  and  beauty  always,  then ;  and,  beyond  these,  the  formative 
arts  have  always  been  one  or  other  of  the  two  objects  which  I  have 
just  defined  to  you  —  truth,  or  serviceableness ;  and  without  these 
aims  neither  the  skill  nor  their  beauty  will  avail ;  only  by  these  can 
either  legitimately  reign.  All  the  graphic  arts  begin  in  keeping  the 
outline  of  shadow  that  we  have  loved,  and  they  end  in  giving  to  it 
the  aspect  of  life ;  and  all  the  architectural  arts  begin  in  the  shap- 
ing of  the  cup  and  the  platter,  and  they  end  in  a  glorified  roof. 

Therefore,  you  see,  in  the  graphic  arts  you  have  skill,  beauty, 
and  likeness ;  and  in  the  architectural  arts,  skill,  beauty,  and  use ; 
and  you  must  have  the  three  in  each  group,  balanced  and  co-ordi- 
nate ;  and  all  the  chief  errors  of  art  consist  in  losing  or  exaggerat- 
ing one  of  these  elements. 

For  instance,  almost  the  whole  system  and  hope  of  modern  life 
are  founded  on  the  notion  that  you  may  substitute  mechanism  for 
skill,  photograph  for  picture,  cast-iron  for  sculpture.  That  is  your 
main  nineteenth-century  faith,  or  infidelity.  You  think  you  can  get 
everything  by  grinding  —  music,  literature,  and  painting.  You  will 

165 


1 66  SELECTIONS 

find  it  grievously  not  so;  you  can  get  nothing  but  dust  by  mere 
grinding.  Even  to  have  the  barley-meal  out  of  it,  you  must  have 
the  barley  first ;  and  that  comes  by  growth,  not  grinding.  But 
essentially,  we  have  lost  our  delight  in  skill ;  in  that  majesty  of  it 
which  I  was  trying  to  make  clear  to  you  in  my  last  address,  and 
which  long  ago  I  tried  to  express,  under  the  head  of  ideas  of  power. 
The  entire  sense  of  that  we  have  lost,  because  we  ourselves  do  not 
take  pains  enough  to  do  right,  and  have  no  conception  of  what  the 
right  costs ;  so  that  all  the  joy  and  reverence  we  ought  to  feel  in 
looking  at  a  strong  man's  work,  have  ceased  in  us.  We  keep  them 
yet  a  little  in  looking  at  a  honeycomb  or  a  bird's  nest ;  we  under- 
stand that  these  differ,  by  divinity  of  skill,  from  a  lump  of  wax  or  a 
cluster  of  sticks.  But  a  picture,  which  is  a  much  more  wonderful 
thing  than  a  honeycomb  or  a  bird's  nest  —  have  we  not  known 
people,  and  sensible  people  too,  who  expected  to  be  taught  to  pro- 
duce that  in  six  lessons  ? 


THE   BOSTON   MASSACRE. 

BANCROFT. 

1.  ON  Friday   the  2d  of  March,  1770,  a  British  soldier  of  the 
Twenty-ninth  Regiment  asked  to  be   employed   at  Gray's  rope- 
walk,  and  was  repulsed  in  the  coarsest  words.     He  then  defied  the 
rope-makers  to  a  boxing  match ;  and    one  of  them  accepting  his 
challenge,  he  was  beaten  off.     Returning  with  several  of  his  com- 
panions, they  too  were  driven  away.     A  larger  number  came  down 
to  renew  the  fight  with   clubs  and  cutlasses,  and   in   their  turn 
encountered  defeat. 

2.  There  was  an  end  to  the  affair  at  the  rope- walk,  but  not  at 
the  barracks,  where  the  soldiers  inflamed  each  other's  passions,  as 
if  the  honor  of  the  regiment  had  been  tarnished. 

3.  On  Saturday  they  prepared  bludgeons  ;  and  being  resolved  to 


THE    BOSTON    MASSACRE  1 67 

brave  the  citizens  on  Monday  night,  they  forewarned  their  partic- 
ular acquaintances  not  to  be  abroad. 

4.  Evening  came  on.     The  young  moon  was  shining  in  a  cloud- 
less winter  sky,  and  its  light  was  increased  by  a  new-fallen  snow. 
Parties  of  soldiers  were  driving  about  the  streets,  making  a  parade 
of  valor,  challenging  resistance,  and  striking  the  inhabitants  indis- 
criminately with  sticks  or  sheathed  cutlasses. 

5.  A  band  which  rushed  out  from  the  barracks  in  Brattle  Street, 
armed  with  clubs,  cutlasses,  and  bayonets,  provoked   resistance; 
and  an  affray  ensued.     An  ensign  at  the  gate  of  the  barrack-yard 
cried  to  the  soldiers,  "Turn  out,  and  I  will  stand  by  you;  kill 
them ;  stick  them  ;  knock  them  down ;  run  your  bayonets  through 
them ! "     And  one  soldier  after  another   levelled   a  firelock,  and 
threatened  to  "make  a  lane"  through  the  crowd. 

6.  Just  before  nine,  as  an  officer  crossed  King  Street,  a  barber's 
lad  cried  after  him,  "  There  goes  a  mean  fellow  who  hath  not  paid 
my  master  for  dressing  his  hair ;  "  on  which  a  sentinel  left  his  post, 
and  with  his  musket  gave  the  boy  a  stroke  on  the  head  which  made 
him  stagger  and  cry  for  pain. 

7.  The  street  soon  became  clear,  and  nobody  troubled  the  sen- 
try, when  a  party  of  soldiers  issued  violently  from  the  main  guard, 
their  arms  glittering  in  the  moonlight,  and   passed  on  hallooing, 
"Where  are  they?  where  are  they?  let  them  come!" 

8.  "  Pray,  soldiers,  spare  my  life  !"  cried  a  boy  of  twelve,  whom 
they  met.     «*  No,  no ;  we  will  kill  you  all ! "  answered  one  of  them, 
and  knocked  him  down  with  his  cutlass.     They  abused  and  insulted 
several  persons  at  their  doors,  and  others  in  the  street,  running 
about  like  madmen  in  a  fury,  crying,  "  Fire  !  "  which  seemed  their 
watchword,  and,  "Where  are  they?  knock  them  down!"    Their 
outrageous  behavior  occasioned  the  ringing  of  the  bell  at  the  head 
of  King  Street. 

9.  The  citizens  whom  the  alarm  set  in  motion  came  out  with 
canes  and  clubs  ;  a  body  of  soldiers  also  came  up,  crying,  *«  Where 


1 68  SELECTIONS 

are  the  cowards  ? "  and  brandishing  their  arms.  From  ten  to 
twenty  boys  came  after  them,  asking,  "  Where  are  they?  where 
are  they?"  "  There  is  the  soldier  who  knocked  me  down,"  said 
the  barber's  boy ;  and  they  began  pushing  one  another  towards  the 
sentinel.  He  primed  and  loaded  his  musket. 

10.  "The  lobster  is  going  to  fire,"  cried  a  boy.     Waving  his 
piece  about,  the  sentinel   pulled  the  trigger.     "  If  you  fire,   you 
must  die  for  it,"  said  one  who  was  passing  by.     **  I  don't  care," 
replied  the  sentry;  "if  they  touch  me,  I  will  fire."     "Fire  away!" 
shouted  the  boys,  persuaded  he  could  not  do  it  without  leave  from 
a  civil  officer;  and  a  young  fellow  spoke  out,  "  We  will  knock  him 
down  for  snapping,"  while  they  whistled  through  their  fingers  and 
huzzaed. 

11.  "Stand   off,"  said  the  sentry,  and  shouted  aloud,  "Turn 
out,  main  guard!"     "They  are  killing  the  sentinel,"  reported  a 
servant,  running  to  the  main  guard.     "Turn  out;  why  don't  you 
turn  out?"  cried  Preston,  who  was  captain  of  the  day  to  the  guard. 
A  party  of  six  formed  with  a  corporal  in  front,  and  Preston  follow- 
ing.    With   bayonets   fixed,   they   haughtily   rushed   through   the 
people,  upon  the  trot,  cursing  them,  and   pushing  them   as  they 
went  along. 

12.  They  found  about  ten  persons  round  the  sentry,  while  about 
fifty  or  sixty  came  down  with  them.     "  For  God's  sake,"  said  a 
citizen,  holding  Preston  by  the  coat,  "take  your  men  back  again; 
if  they  fire,  your  life  must  answer  for  the  consequences."     "  I  knew 
what  I  am  about,"  said  he  hastily,  and  much  agitated. 

13.  None  pressed  on  them  or  provoked  them  till  they  began 
loading ;  when  a  party  about  twelve  in  number,  with  sticks  in  their 
hands,  moved  from  the  middle  of  the  street,  where  they  had  been 
standing,  gave  three  cheers,  and  passed  along  in  front  of  the  sol- 
diers, whose  muskets  some  of  them  struck  as  they  went  by.     "  You 
are  cowardly  rascals,"  said  they,  "  for  bringing  arms  against  naked 
men.     Lay  aside  your  guns,  and  we  are  ready  for  you.     Come  on, 


THE    BOSTON    MASSACRE  169 

you  lobster   scoundrels ;    fire,   if  you   dare ;   we   know   you   dare 
not." 

14.  Just  then  one  of  the  soldiers  received  a  blow  from  a  stick 
thrown,  which  hit  his  musket ;  and  the  word  "  Fire  ! "  being  given, 
he  stepped  a  little  on  one  side,  and  shot  a  mulatto,  who  at  the  time 
was  quietly  leaning  on  a  long  stick. 

15.  The  people  immediately  began  to  move  off.     The  rest  fired 
slowly  and  in  succession  on  the  people  who  were  dispersing.     One 
aimed  deliberately  at  a  boy  who  was  running  for  safety.    Three  per- 
sons were  killed ;  eight  were  wounded,  two  of  them  mortally.     Of 
all  the  eleven,  not  more  than  one  had  any  share  in  the  disturbance. 

1 6.  So  infuriated  were  the  soldiers  that,  when  the  men  returned 
to  take  up  the  dead,  they  prepared  to  fire  again,  but  were  checked 
by  Preston;  while   the  Twenty-ninth  Regiment  appeared   under 
arms  in  King  Street,  as  if  bent  on  a  further  massacre.     "  This  is 
our  time,"   cried   the   soldiers ;   and   dogs  were  never  seen  more 
greedy  for  their  prey. 

17.  The  bells  rung  in  all  the  churches ;  the  town  drums  beat. 
"To  arms!  to  arms!"  was  the  cry.     And  now  was  to  be  tested 
the  true  character  of  Boston.    All  its  sons  came  forth,  excited  almost 
to  madness ;  many  were  absolutely  distracted  by  the  sight  of  the 
dead  bodies  and  of  the  blood,  which  ran  plentifully  in  the  streets, 
and  was  imprinted  in  all  directions  by  the  foot-tracks  on  the  snow. 

1 8.  '*  Our  hearts,"  says  Warren,  "  beat   to  arms,  almost   re- 
solved by  one  stroke  to  avenge  the  death  of  our  slaughtered  breth- 
ren."    But  they  stood  self-possessed  and  irresistible,  demanding 
justice  according  to  law. 

19.  The  people  would  not  be  pacified  till  the  regiment  was  con- 
fined to  the  guard-room  and  the  barracks  ;  and  the  governor  himself 
gave  assurance  that  instant  inquiries  should  be  made  by  the  county 
magistrates.     A  warrant  was  issued  against  Preston,  who  surren- 
dered himself  to  the  sheriff;  and  the  soldiers  who  composed  the 
party  were  delivered  up  and  committed  to  prison. 


I/O  SELECTIONS 


RIP  VAN   WINKLE'S  AWAKENING. 

IRVING. 

PART  I. 

1 .  ON  waking,  Rip  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll  overlooking 
the  glen.     He  rubbed  his  eyes  —  it  was  a  bright  sunny  morning. 
The  birds  were  hopping  and  twittering  among  the  bushes,  and  the 
eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure  mountain  breeze. 
"  Surely,"  thought  Rip,  "  I  have  not  slept  here  all  night." 

2.  He   recalled    the    occurrences   before   he   fell    asleep  —  the 
mountain  ravine  —  the  party  at  nine-pins  —  the  flagon.     "  Oh !  that 
wicked   flagon ! "  thought   Rip ;    "  what  excuse   shall    I   make   to 
Dame  Van  Winkle?" 

3.  He  looked  round  for  his  gun  ;  but,  in  place  of  the  clean,  well- 
oiled  fowling-piece,  he  found  an  old  firelock  lying  by  him,  the  barrel 
incrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  falling  off,  the  stock  worm-eaten.     He 
now  suspected  that  the  grave  roisters  of  the  mountain  had  put  a 
trick  upon  him,  and,  having  dosed  him  with  liquor,  robbed  him  of 
his  gun. 

4.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared ;  but  he  might  have  strayed  away 
after  a  squirrel  or  a  partridge.     He  whistled  after  him,  and  shouted 
his  name,  but  all  in  vain;   the  echoes  repeated  his  whistle  and 
shout,  but  no  dog  was  to  be  seen. 

5.  He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of  the  last  evening's  gam- 
bol, and,  if  he  met  with  any  of  the  party,  to  demand  his  dog  and 
gun.     As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found  himself  stiff  in  the  joints,  and 
wanting   in  his   usual   activity.     "These   mountain   beds  do  not 
agree  with  me,"  thought  Rip;  «*  and  if  this  frolic  should  lay  me  up 
with  a  fit  of  the  rheumatism,  I  shall  have  a  blessed  time  with 
Dame  Van  Winkle." 

6.  With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  Into  the  glen.    He  found  the 
gully  up  which  he  had  ascended  the  preceding  evening ;  but  to  his 
astonishment  a  mountain  stream  was  now  foaming  down  it,  leaping 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  filling  the  glen  with  babbling  murmurs. 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE'S  AWAKENING  171 

7.  He,  however,  made  shift  to  scramble  up  its  sides,  working 
his  toilsome  way  through  thickets  of  birch,  sassafras,  and  witch- 
hazel  ;  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or  entangled  by  the  wild  grape- 
vines that  twisted  their  coils  and  tendrils  from  tree  to  tree,  and 
spread  a  kind  of  network  in  his  path. 

8.  Here  poor  Rip  was  brought  to  a  stand.     He  again  called  and 
whistled  after  his  dog ;  he  was  answered  only  by  the  cawing  of  a 
flock  of  idle  crows,  which  were  sporting  high  in  air  about  a  withered 
tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice,  and  which,  secure  in  their 
elevation,  seemed  to  look  down  and  scoff  at  the  poor  man's  per- 
plexities. 

9.  What  was  to  be  done?    The  morning  was  passing  away,  and 
Rip  felt  famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.     He  grieved  to  give  up 
his  dog  and  gun  ;  he  dreaded  to  meet  his  wife  ;  but  it  would  not  do 
to  starve  among  the  mountains.     He  shook  his  head,  shouldered 
the  rusty  firelock,  and,  with  a  heart  full  of  trouble  and  anxiety, 
turned  his  steps  homeward. 

10.  As  he  approached  the  village  he  met  a  number  of  people, 
but  none  whom  he  knew ;  which  somewhat  surprised  him,  for  he 
had  thought  himself  acquainted  with  every  one  in  the  country  round. 
Their  dress,  too,  was  of  a  different  fashion  from  that  to  which  he 
was  accustomed. 

1 1 .  They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of  surprise ;  and, 
whenever  they  cast  eyes  upon  him,  invariably  stroked  their  chins. 
The  constant  recurrence  of  this  gesture  induced  Rip  involuntarily 
to  do  the  same,  when,  to  his  astonishment,  he  found  his  beard  had 
grown  a  foot  long ! 

12.  He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the  village.     A  troop  of 
strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him,  and  pointing 
at  his  gray  beard.     The  dogs,  too,  not  one  of  which  he  recognized 
for  an  old  acquaintance,  barked  at  him  as  he  passed.     The  very 
village  was  altered ;  it  was  larger  and  more  populous. 

13.  There  were  rows  of  houses  which  he  had  never  seen  before ;. 


1 72  SELECTIONS 

and  those  which  had  been  his  familiar  haunts  had  disappeared. 
Strange  names  were  over  the  doors  ;  strange  faces  at  the  windows  ; 
everything  was  strange.  His  mind  now  misgave  him  ;  he  began 
to  doubt  whether  both  he  and  the  world  around  him  were  not  be- 
witched. 

14.  Surely  this  was  his  native  village,  which  he  had  left  but  a 
day  before.     There  stood  the  Catskill  Mountains ;  there  ran  the 
silver  Hudson  at  a  distance  ;  there  was  every  hill  and  dale  precisely 
as  it  had  always  been.     Rip  was  sorely  perplexed.     "  That  flagon 
last  night,"  thought  he,  "  has  addled  my  poor  head  sadly  !  " 

15.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found  the  way  to  his  own 
house,  which  he  approached  with  silent  awe,  expecting  every  mo- 
ment to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame  Van  Winkle.     He  found  the 
house  gone  to  decay ;    the  roof  fallen  in,  the  windows  shattered, 
and  the  doors  off  the  hinges. 

1 6.  A   half-starved  dog,  that  looked  like  Wolf,  was   skulking 
about  it.    Rip  called  him  by  name  ;  but  the  cur  snarled,  showed  his 
teeth,  and  passed  on.     This  was  an  unkind  cut  indeed.     '*  My  very 
dog,"  sighed  poor  Rip,  "  has  forgotten  me ! " 

17.  He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  Dame  Van 
Winkle  had  always  kept  in  neat  order.     It  was  empty,  forlorn,  and 
apparently  abandoned.      This  desolateness  overcame  all  his  con- 
nubial fears.     He  called  loudly  for  his  wife  and  children.     The 
lonely  chambers  rang  for  a  moment  with  his  voice,  and  then  all 
again  was  silence. 


RIP   VAN  WINKLE'S  AWAKENING. 
PART  II 

18.  HE  now  hurried  forth  and  hastened  to  his  old  resort,  the 
village  inn  ;  but  it,  too,  was  gone.  A  large,  rickety  wooden  building 
stood  in  its  place,  with  great  gaping  windows,  some  of  them 


RIP    VAN    WINKLES   AWAKENING  173 

broken,  and  mended  with  old  hats  and  petticoats;  and  over  the 
door  was  painted,  **  The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan  Doolittle." 

19.  Instead  of  the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet  little 
Dutch  inn  of  yore,  there  now  was  reared  a  tall,  naked  pole,  with 
something  on  the  top  that  looked  like  a  red  night-cap  ;  and  from  it 
was  fluttering  a  flag,  on  which  was  a  singular  assemblage  of  stars 
and  stripes.     All  this  was  strange  and  incomprehensible. 

20.  He  recognized  on  the  sign,  however,  the  ruby  face  of  King 
George,  under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many  a  peaceful  pipe ;  but 
even    this   was   singularly   metamorphosed.      The   red    coat  was 
changed  for  one  of  blue  and  buff;  a  sword  was  held  in  the  hand 
instead   of   a   sceptre ;    the   head   was   decorated   with  a  cocked 
hat;  and  underneath  was  painted  in  large  characters,  GENERAL 
WASHINGTON. 

21.  There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folk  about  the  door,  but 
none   that  Rip   recollected.      The   very  character  of  the   people 
seemed  changed.     There  was  a  busy,  bustling,  disputatious  tone 
about  it,  instead  of  the  accustomed  phlegm  and  drowsy  tranquillity. 
He  looked  in  vain  for  the  sage  Nicholas  Vedder,  with  his  broad 
face,  double  chin,  and  fair,  long  pipe,  uttering  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke  instead  of  idle  speeches  ;  or  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster, 
doling  forth  the  contents  of  an  ancient  newspaper. 

22.  In  place  of  these,  a  lean,  bilious-looking  fellow,  with  his 
pockets  full  of  hand-bills,  was  haranguing  vehemently  about  rights 
of  citizens  —  election  —  members  of  Congress  —  liberty  —  Bunker's 
Hill  —  heroes  of  seventy-six  —  and  other  words  that  were  a  perfect 
jargon  to  the  bewildered  Van  Winkle. 

23.  The  appearance  of  Rip  with  his  long,  grizzled  beard,  his 
rusty  fowling-piece,  his  uncouth  dress,  and  the  army  of  women  and 
children  that  had  gathered  at  his  heels,  soon  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  tavern  politicians. 

24.  They  crowded  round  him,  eying  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  great  curiosity.     The  orator  bustled  up  to  him,  and  drawing 


SELECTIONS 


him  partly  aside,  inquired  "on  which  side  he  voted."    Rip  started 
in  vacant  stupidity. 

25.  Another  short  but  busy  little  fellow  pulled  him  by  the  arm, 
and  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired  in  his  ear  whether  he  was  Federal  or 
Democrat. 

26.  Rip  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  this  question  ;  when 
a  knowing,  self-important  old  gentleman  in  a  sharp  cocked  hat 
made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  putting  them  to  the  right  and  the 
left  with  his  elbows  as  he  passed  ;  and  planting  himself  before  Van 
Winkle,  with  one  arm  a-kimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his  cane,  his 
keen  eyes  and  sharp  hat  penetrating  as  it  were  into  his  very  soul, 
demanded,  in  an  austere  tone,  what  brought  him  to  the  election 
with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  mob  at  his  heels,  and  whether 
he  meant  to  breed  a  riot  in  the  village. 

27.  "  Alas  !  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip,  somewhat  dismayed,  "  I  am 
a  poor,  quiet  man,  a  native  of  the  place,  and  a  loyal  subject  of  the 
king,  God  bless  him  !  " 

28.  Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  by-standers,  "  A  tory  ! 
a  tory  !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away  with  him  !  "    It  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked  hat 
restored  order  ;  and  having  assumed  a  tenfold  austerity  of  brow, 
demanded  again  of  the  unknown  culprit  what  he  came  there  for, 
and  whom  he  was  seeking. 

29.  The  poor  man  humbly  assured  him  that  he  meant  no  harm, 
but  merely  came  there  in  search  of  some  of  his  neighbors  who  used 
to  keep  about  the  tavern. 

30.  "  Well,  who  are  they?    Name  them."    Rip  bethought  him- 
self a  moment,  and  inquired,  "  Where  is  Nicholas  Vedder?" 

31.  There  was  silence  for  a  little  while,  when  an  old  man  replied, 
in  a  thin,  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder?  why  he  is  dead  and 
gone  these  eighteen  years  !     There  was  a  wooden  tombstone  in  the 
church-yard  that  used  to  tell  about  him,  but  that  is  rotten  and  gone 
too." 


RIP    VAN    WINKLES    AWAKENING  175 

32.  "Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster?" — "He  went 
off  to  the  wars,  was  a  great  militia  general,  and  is  now  in  Con- 
gress." 

33.  Rip's  heart  died  away  at  hearing  of  these  sad  changes  in  his 
home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself  thus  alone  in  the  world. 
Every  answer  puzzled   him,  too,  by  treating  of  such    enormous 
lapses  of  time,  and  of  matters  which  he   could  not  understand. 
War  —  Congress  !  —  he  had  no  courage  to  ask  after  any  more  of 
his  friends,  but  cried  out  in  despair,  *«  Does  nobody  here  know 
Rip  Van  Winkle?" 

34.  "Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle!  "  exclaimed  two  or  three,  "oh,  to 
be  sure !  that  is  Rip  Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning  against  the  tree." 

35.  Rip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of  himself  as  he 
went   up  to  the   mountain ;    apparently   as  lazy,  and  certainly  as 
ragged.     The  poor  fellow  was  now  completely  confounded.     He 
doubted  his  own  identity,  and  whether  he  was  himself  or  another 
man.      In  the  midst  of  his  bewilderment  the  man  in  the  cocked 
hat  demanded  who  he  was,  and  what  was  his  name. 

36.  "God  knows!"  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wit's  end;  "I'm  not 
myself — I'm    somebody    else  —  that's    me    yonder  —  no  —  that's 
somebody  else,  got  into  my  shoes  —  I  was  myself  last  night,  but  I 
fell  asleep   on  the  mountain,  and  they've  changed  my  gun,  and 
everything's  changed,  and  I'm  changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what's  my 
name,  or  who  I  am  ! " 

37.  The  by-standers  now  began  to  look  at  each  other,  nod,  wink 
significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against  their  foreheads.     There 
was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing  the  gun,  and  keeping  the  old 
fellow  from  doing  mischief;  at  the  very  suggestion  of  which  the  self- 
important  man  with  the  cocked  hat  retired  with  some  precipitation. 

38.  At   this   critical   moment,  a  fresh,  comely  woman  passed 
through  the  throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray-bearded  man.      She 
had  a  chubby  child  in  her  arms,  which,  frightened  at  his  looks, 
began  to  cry.    "  Hush,  Rip,"  cried  she ;  "  hush,  you  little  fool ;  the 


SELECTIONS 

old  man  will  not  hurt  you."  The  name  of  the  child,  the  air  of  the 
mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awakened  a  train  of  recollections 
in  his  mind. 

39.  "What    is    your    name,    my    good    woman?"    asked    he. 
"Judith  Gardener." —  "  And  your  father's  name  ?  " 

40.  "  Ah,  poor  man,  his  name  was  Rip  Van  Winkle.    It  is  twenty 
years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with  his  gun,  and  never  has 
been  heard  of  since.    His  dog  came  home  without  him  ;  but  whether 
he  shot  himself,  or  was  carried  away  by  the  Indians,  nobody  can 
tell.     I  was  then  but  a  little  girl." 

41 .  Rip  had  but  one  question  more  to  ask,  but  he  put  it  with  a 
faltering  voice:    "  Where  is  your  mother?"  —  "  Oh,  she,  too,  had 
died  but  a  short  time  since;  she  broke  a  blood-vessel  in  a  fit  of 
passion  at  a  New  England  pedler." 

42.  There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in  this  intelligence. 
The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer.      He  caught  his 
daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms.    "  I  am  your  father ! "  cried  he ; 
"  young  Rip  Van  Winkle  once  —  old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now !    Does 
nobody  know  poor  Rip  Van  Winkle?  " 

43.  All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out  from 
among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and,  peering  under  it 
in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed,  "  Sure  enough !  it  is  Rip  Van 
Winkle  —  it   is   himself.     Welcome    home    again,   old    neighbor. 
Why,  where  have  you  been  these  twenty  long  years  ?  " 

44.  Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years  had 
been  to  him  but  as  one  night.      The  neighbors  stared  when  they 
heard  it;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each  other,  and  put  their 
tongues  in  their  cheeks  ;  and  the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked 
hat,  who,  when  the  alarm  was  over,  had  returned  to  the  field, 
screwed  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook  his  head ;  upon 
which  there  was  a  general  shaking  of  the  heads  throughout  the 
assemblage. 


TOM    PINCH  S  JOURNEY    TO    LONDON  I// 

TOM  PINCH'S   JOURNEY  TO   LONDON. 

CHARLES  DICKENS. 

1.  IT  might  have  confused  a  less  modest  man  than  Tom  Pinch 
to  find  himself  sitting  next  that  coachman ;  for,  of  all  the  swells 
that  ever  flourished  a  whip  professionally,  he  might  have  been 
elected  emperor.     He  did  not  handle  his  gloves  like  another  man, 
but  put  them  on  —  even  when  he  was  standing  on  the  pavement, 
quite  detached  from  the  coach  —  as  if  the  four  grays  were,  some- 
how or  other,  at  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 

2.  It  was  the  same  with  his  hat.     He  did  things  with  his  hat 
which  nothing  but   an   unlimited  knowledge  of  horses,  and  the 
wildest  freedom  of  the  road,  could  ever  have  made  him  perfect  in. 
Valuable  little  parcels  were  brought  to  him  with  particular  instruc- 
tions, and  he  pitched  them  into  his  hat,  and  stuck  it  on  again,  as 
if  the  laws  of  gravity  did  not  admit  of  such  an  event  as  its  being 
knocked  off  or  blown  off,  and  nothing  like  an  accident  could  befall  it. 

3.  The  guard,  too !     Seventy  breezy  miles  a  day  were  written  in 
his  very  whiskers.     His  manners  were  a  canter ;  his  conversation  a 
round  trot.      He  was  a  fast  coach  upon  a  down-hill  turnpike-road; 
he  was  all  pace.     A  wagon  could  not  have  moved  slowly  with  that 
guard  and  his  key-bugle  upon  the  top  of  it. 

4.  These  were  all  foreshadowings  of  London,  Tom  thought,  as 
he  sat  upon  the  box  and  looked  about  him.     Such  a  coachman  and 
such  a  guard  never  could  have  existed  between  Salisbury  and  any 
other  place.     The  coach  was  none  of  your  steady-going  coaches, 
but  a  swaggering,  dissipated  London  coach  ;  up  all  night,  and  lying 
by  all  day. 

5.  It  cared  no  more  for  Salisbury  than  if  it  had  been  a  hamlet. 
It  rattled  noisily  through  the  best  streets,  defied  the  cathedral,  took 
the  worst  corners  sharpest,  went  cutting  in  everywhere,  making 
everything  get  out  of  its  way,  and  spun  along  the  open  country 


SELECTIONS 

road,  blowing  a  lively  defiance  out  of  its  key-bugle,  as  its  last  part- 
ing legacy. 

6.  It  was  a  charming  evening,  mild  and  bright.     Tom  could  not 
resist  the  captivating  sense  of  rapid  motion  through  the  pleasant 
air.     The  four  grays  skimmed  along  as  if  they  liked  it  quite  as  well 
as  Tom  did ;  the  bugle  was  in  as  high  spirits  as  the  grays ;    the 
coachman  chimed  in  sometimes  with  his  voice  ;  the  wheels  hummed 
cheerfully  in  unison ;  the  brass  work  on  the  harness  was  an  orches- 
tra of  little  bells  ;  and  thus  as  they  went  clinking,  jingling,  rattling 
smoothly  on,  the  whole  concern,  from  the  buckles  of  the  leaders' 
coupling-reins  to  the  handle  of  the  hind  boot,  was  one  great  instru- 
ment of  music. 

7.  Yoho !  past  hedges,  gates,  and  trees  ;  past  cottages  and  barns 
and  people  going  home  from  work.      Yoho!  past  donkey-chaises 
drawn  aside  into  the  ditch,  and  empty  carts  with  rampant  horses, 
whipped  up  at  a  bound  upon  the  little  water-course,  and  held  by 
struggling  carters  close  to  the  five-barred  gate,  until  the  coach  had 
passed  the  narrow  turning  in  the  road. 

8.  Yoho !   by  churches  dropped  down  by  themselves  in  quiet 
nooks,  with  rustic  burying-grounds  about  them,  where  the  graves 
are  green,  and  daisies  sleep  —  for  it  is  evening  —  on  the  bosom  of 
the  dead. 

9.  Yoho !  past  streams  in  which  the  cattle  cool  their  feet,  and 
where  the  rushes  grow  ;  past  paddock-fences,  farms,  and  rick-yards ; 
past  last  year's  stacks,  cut  slice  by  slice  away,  and  showing  in  the 
waning  light  like  ruined  gables,  old  and  brown.     Yoho  !  down  the 
pebbly  dip  and  through  the  merry  water-splash  ;  and  up  at  a  canter 
to  the  level  road  again. 

10.  Away  with  four  fresh  horses  from  the  Bald-faced  Stag,  where 
topers  congregate  about  the  door  admiring ;  and  the  last  team,  with 
traces  hanging  loose,  go  roaming  off  toward  the  pond,  until  ob- 
served and  shouted  after  by  a  dozen  throats,  while  volunteering 
boys  pursue  them.     Now,  with  a  clattering  of  hoofs  and  striking 


THE    CLOUD  179 

out  of  fiery  sparks,  across  the  old  stone  bridge,  and  down  again 
into  the  shadowy  road,  and  through  the  open  gate,  and  far  away, 
away  into  the  wold.  Yoho ! 

u.  See  the  bright  moon  !  High  up  before  we  know  it ;  making 
the  earth  reflect  the  objects  on  its  breast  like  water.  Hedges, 
trees,  low  cottages,  church-steeples,  blighted  stumps,  and  flourish- 
ing young  slips  have  all  grown  vain  upon  the  sudden,  and  mean  to 
contemplate  their  own  fair  images  till  morning.  The  poplars  yon- 
der rustle,  that  their  quivering  leaves  may  see  themselves  upon 
the  ground.  Not  so  the  oak;  trembling  does  not  become  him; 
and  he  watches  himself  in  his  stout  old  burly  steadfastness,  with- 
out the  motion  of  a  twig. 

12.  The  beauty  of  the  night  is  hardly  felt  when  day  comes  leap- 
ing up.  Yoho !  past  market-gardens,  rows  of  houses,  villas,  ter- 
races, and  squares ;  past  wagons,  coaches,  and  carts ;  past  early 
workmen,  late  stragglers,  drunken  men,  and  sober  carriers  of  loads ; 
past  brick  and  mortar  in  its  every  shape,  and  in  among  the  rattling 
pavements,  where  a  jaunty  seat  upon  a  coach  is  not  so  easy  to  pre- 
serve. Yoho !  down  countless  turnings,  until  an  old  inn  yard  is 
gained;  and  Tom  Pinch,  getting  down  quite  stunned  and  giddy,  is 
in  London. 


THE   CLOUD. 

PERCY  B.  SHBLLKY. 

I  BRING  fresh  showers  for  the  thirsting  flowers, 

From  the  seas  and  the  streams  ; 

I  bear  light  shade  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noonday  dreams. 

From  my  wings  are  shaken  the  dews  that  waken 

The  sweet  buds  every  one, 

When  rocked  to  rest  on  their  mother's  breast, 

As  she  dances  about  the  sun. 


ISO  SELECTIONS 

I  wield  the  flail  of  the  lashing  hail, 
And  whiten  the  green  plains  under ; 
And  then  again  I  dissolve  it  in  rain, 
And  laugh  as  I  pass  in  thunder. 

I  sift  the  snow  on  the  mountains  below, 

And  their  great  pines  groan  aghast ; 

And  all  the  night  'tis  my  pillow  white, 

While  I  sleep  in  the  arms  of  the  blast. 

Sublime  on  the  towers  of  my  skyey  bowers, 

Lightning,  my  pilot,  sits ; 

In  a  cavern  under  is  fettered  the  thunder, 

It  struggles  and  howls  at  fits ; 

Over  earth  and  ocean,  with  gentle  motion, 

This  pilot  is  guiding  me, 

Lured  by  the  love  of  the  genii  that  move 

In  the  depths  of  the  purple  sea ; 

Over  the  rills,  and  the  crags,  and  the  hills, 

Over  the  lakes  and  the  plains, 

Wherever  he  dream,  under  mountain  or  stream, 

The  Spirit  he  loves  remains  ; 

And  I  all  the  while  bask  in  heaven's  blue  smile, 

Whilst  he  is  dissolving  in  rains. 


The  sanguine  sunrise,  with  his  meteor  eyes, 

And  his  burning  plumes  outspread, 

Leaps  on  the  back  of  my  sailing  rack, 

When  the  morning  star  shines  dead, 

As  on  the  jag  of  a  mountain  crag, 

Which  an  earthquake  rocks  and  swings, 

An  eagle  alit  one  moment  may  sit 

In  the  light  of  its  golden  wings. 

And  when  sunset  may  breathe,  from  the  lit  sea  beneath, 

Its  ardors  of  rest  and  of  love, 

And  the  crimson  pall  of  eve  may  fall 

From  the  depth  of  heaven  above, 

With  wings  folded  I  rest  on  mine  airy  nest, 

As  still  as  a  brooding  dove. 


THE    CLOUD        .  l8l 

That  orbed  maiden,  with  white  fire  laden, 

Whom  mortals  call  the  moon, 

Glides  glimmering  o'er  my  fleece-like  floor, 

By  the  midnight  breezes  strewn  ; 

And  wherever  the  beat  of  her  unseen  feet, 

Which  only  the  angels  hear, 

May  have  broken  the  woof  of  my  tent's  thin  roof, 

The  stars  peep  behind  her  and  peer. 

And  I  laugh  to  see  them  whirl  and  flee, 

Like  a  swarm  of  golden  bees, 

When  I  widen  the  rent  in  my  wind-built  tent, 

Till  the  calm  rivers,  lakes,  and  seas, 

Like  strips  of  the  sky  fallen  through  me  on  high, 

Are  each  paved  with  the  moon  and  these. 


I  find  the  sun's  throne  with  a  burning  zone, 

And  the  moon's  with  a  girdle  of  pearl ; 

The  volcanoes  are  dim,  and  the  stars  reel  and  swim, 

When  the  whirlwinds  my  banner  unfurl, 

From  cape  to  cape,  with  a  bridge-like  shape, 

Over  a  torrent  sea, 

Sunbeam-proof,  I  hang  like  a  roof,  — 

The  mountains  its  columns  be. 

The  triumphal  arch  through  which  I  march, 

With  hurricane,  fire,  and  snow, 

When  the  powers  of  the  air  are  chained  to  my  chair, 

Is  the  million-colored  bow  ; 

The  sphere-fire  above  its  soft  colors  wove, 

While  the  moist  earth  was  laughing  below. 

I  am  the  daughter  of  earth  and  water, 

And  the  nursling  of  the  sky  ; 

I  pass  through  the  pores  of  the  ocean  and  shores ; 

I  change,  but  I  cannot  die. 

For  after  the  rain,  when  with  never  a  stain 

The  pavilion  of  heaven  is  bare, 

And  the  winds  and  sunbeams  with  their  convex  gleams 

Build  up  the  blue  dome  of  air, 


1 82  %         SELECTIONS 

I  silently  laugh  at  my  own  cenotaph, 

And  out  of  the  caverns  of  rain, 

Like  a  child  from  the  womb,  like  a  ghost  from  the  tomb, 

I  arise  and  unbuild  it  again. 


PUBLIC  DISHONESTY. 

HBNRY  WARD  BHECHER. 

A  CORRUPT  public  sentiment  produces  dishonesty.  A  public  sen- 
timent in  which  dishonesty  is  not  disgraceful,  in  which  bad  men  are 
respectable,  are  trusted,  are  honored,  are  exalted,  is  a  curse  to  the 
young.  The  fever  of  speculation,  the  universal  derangement  of 
business,  the  growing  laxness  of  morals,  is,  to  an  alarming  extent, 
introducing  such  a  state  of  things. 

If  the  shocking  stupidity  of  the  public  mind  to  atrocious  dis- 
honesties is  not  aroused ;  if  good  men  do  not  bestir  themselves  to 
drag  the  young  from  this  foul  sorcery;  if  the  relaxed  bands  of 
honesty  are  not  tightened,  and  conscience  tutored  to  a  severer 
morality,  —  our  night  is  at  hand,  our  midnight  not  far  off.  Woe 
to  that  guilty  people  who  sit  down  upon  broken  laws,  and  wealth 
saved  by  injustice  !  Woe  to  a  generation  fed  by  the  bread  of  fraud, 
whose  children's  inheritance  shall  be  a  perpetual  memento  of  their 
fathers'  unrighteousness  ;  to  whom  dishonesty  shall  be  made  pleas- 
ant by  association  with  the  revered  memories  of  father,  brother, 
and  friend ! 

But  when  a  wnole  people,  united  by  a  common  disregard  of  jus- 
tice, conspire  to  defraud  public  creditors ;  and  States  vie  with 
States  in  an  infamous  repudiation  of  just  debts,  by  open  or  sinister 
methods ;  and  nations  exert  their  sovereignty  to  protect  and  dignify 
the  knavery  of  the  Commonwealth  ;  then  the  confusion  of  domestic 
affairs  has  bred  a  fiend,  before  whose  flight  honor  fades  away,  and 
under  whose  feet  the  sanctity  of  truth  and  the  religion  of  solemn 
compacts  are  stamped  down  and  ground  into  the  dirt.  Need  we 


PUBLIC    DISHONESTY  13 

ask  the  cause  of  growing  dishonesty  among  the  young,  the  increas- 
ing untrustworthiness  of  all  agents,  when  States  are  seen  clothed 
with  the  panoply  of  dishonesty,  and  nations  put  on  fraud  for  their 
garments  ? 

Absconding  agents,  swindling  schemes,  and  defalcations,  occur- 
ring in  such  melancholy  abundance,  have  at  length  ceased  to  be 
wonders,  and  rank  with  the  common  accidents  of  fire  and  flood. 
The  budget  of  each  week  is  incomplete  without  its  mob  and  run- 
away cashier,  its  duel  and  defaulter ;  and  as  waves  which  roll  to 
the  shore  are  lost  in  those  which  follow  on,  so  the  villanies  of  each 
week  obliterate  the  record  of  the  last. 

Men  of  notorious  immorality,  whose  dishonesty  is  flagrant, 
whose  private  habits  would  disgrace  the  ditch,  are  powerful  and 
popular.  I  have  seen  a  man  stained  with  every  sin,  except  those 
which  required  courage ;  into  whose  head  I  do  not  think  a  pure 
thought  has  entered  for  forty  years ;  into  whose  heart  an  honorable 
feeling  would  droop  for  very  loneliness  ;  —  in  evil  he  was  ripe  and 
rotten ;  hoary  and  depraved  in  deed,  in  word,  in  his  present  life, 
and  in  all  his  past ;  evil  when  by  himself,  and  viler  among  men ; 
corrupting  to  the  young ;  —  to  domestic  fidelity,  a  recreant ;  to  com- 
mon honor,  a  traitor ;  to  honesty,  an  outlaw ;  to  religion,  a  hypo- 
crite; —  base  in  all  that  is  worthy  of  man,  and  accomplished  in 
whatever  is  disgraceful ;  and  yet  this  wretch  could  go  where  he 
would ;  enter  good  men's  dwellings,  and  purloin  their  votes.  Men 
would  curse  him,  yet  obey  him ;  hate  him,  and  assist  him ;  warn 
their  sons  against  him,  and  lead  them  to  the  polls  for  him.  A 
public  sentiment  which  produces  ignominious  knaves  cannot  breed 
honest  men. 

We  have  not  yet  emerged  from  a  period  in  which  debts  are  in- 
secure ;  the  debtor  legally  protected  against  the  rights  of  the  credi- 
tor ;  taxes  laid,  not  by  the  requirements  of  justice,  but  for  political 
effect,  and  lowered  to  a  dishonest  inefficiency;  and  when  thus 
diminished,  not  collected ;  the  citizens  resisting  their  own  officers ; 


184  SELECTIONS 

officers  resigning  at  the  bidding  of  the  electors ;  the  laws  of  prop- 
erty paralyzed ;  bankrupt  laws  built  up ;  and  stay-laws  unconstitu- 
tionally enacted,  upon  which  the  courts  look  with  aversion,  yet 
fear  to  deny  them,  lest  the  wildness  of  popular  opinion  should  roll 
back  disdainfully  upon  the  bench,  to  despoil  its  dignity,  and  pros- 
trate its  power.  General  suffering  has  made  us  tolerant  of  general 
dishonesty ;  and  the  gloom  of  our  commercial  disaster  threatens 
to  become  the  pall  of  our  morals. 


ELOQUENCE. 

WEBSTEK. 

WHEN  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momentous  occa- 
sions, when  great  interests  are  at  stake,  and  strong  passions  excited, 
nothing  is  valuable  in  speech  further  than  it  is  connected  with  high 
intellectual  and  moral  endowments.  Clearness,  force,  and  earnest- 
ness are  the  qualities  which  produce  conviction.  True  eloquence, 
indeed,  does  not  consist  in  speech.  It  cannot  be  brought  from 
afar.  Labor  and  learning  may  toil  for  it,  but  they  will  toil  in  vain. 
Words  and  phrases  may  be  marshalled  in  every  way,  but  they  can- 
not compass  it.  It  must  exist  in  the  man,  in  the  subject,  and  in 
the  occasion.  Affected  passion,  intense  expression,  the  pomp  of 
declamation,  all  may  aspire  after  it;  they  cannot  reach  it.  It 
comes,  if  it  comes  at  all,  like  the  outbreaking  of  a  fountain  from  the 
earth,  or  the  bursting  forth  of  volcanic  fires,  with  spontaneous, 
original,  native  force.  The  graces  taught  in  the  schools,  the  costly 
ornaments  and  studied  contrivances  of  speech,  shock  and  disgust 
men,  when  their  own  lives,  and  the  fate  of  their  wives,  their  chil- 
dren, and  their  country,  hang  on  the  decision  of  the  hour.  Then 
words  have  lost  their  power,  rhetoric  is  vain,  and  all  elaborate  ora- 
tory contemptible.  Even  genius  itself  then  feels  rebuked  and  sub- 
dued, as  in  the  presence  of  higher  qualities.  Then  patriotism  is 
eloquent;  then  self-devotion  is  eloquent.  The  clear  conception, 


«s 

outrunning  the  deductions  of  logic,  the  high  purpose,  the  firm  re- 
solve, the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the  tongue,  beaming  from 
the  eye,  informing  every  feature,  and  urging  the  whole  man  onward, 
right  onward  to  his  object,  —  this,  this  is  Eloquence,  or  rather  it  is 
something  greater  and  higher  than  all  eloquence,  —  it  is  Action, 
noble,  sublime,  God-like  Action. 


THE  ORATOR'S  ART. 

J.  Q.  ADAMS. 

THE  eloquence  of  the  college  is  like  the  discipline  of  a  review. 
The  art  of  war,  we  are  all  sensible,  does  not  consist  in  manoeuvres 
on  a  training-day ;  nor  the  steadfastness  of  the  soldier  in  the  hour 
of  battle,  in  the  drilling  of  his  orderly  sergeant.  Yet  the  superior 
excellence  of  the  veteran  army  is  exemplified  in  nothing  more  for- 
cibly than  in  the  perfection  of  its  discipline.  It  is  in  the  heat  of 
action,  upon  the  field  of  blood,  that  the  fortune  of  the  day  may  be 
decided  by  the  exactness  of  manual  exercise  ;  and  the  art  of  display- 
ing a  column,  or  directing  a  charge,  may  turn  the  balance  of  vic- 
tory, and  change  the  history  of  the  world.  The  application  of  these 
observations  is  as  direct  to  the  art  of  oratory  as  to  that  of  war. 
The  exercises  to  which  you  are  here  accustomed  are  not  intended 
merely  for  the  display  of  the  talents  you  have  acquired.  They  are 
instruments  put  into  your  hands  for  future  use.  Their  object  is  not 
barely  to  prepare  you  for  the  composition  and  delivery  of  an  ora- 
tion to  amuse  an  idle  hour  on  some  public  anniversary.  It  is  to 
give  you  a  clew  for  the  labyrinth  of  legislation  in  the  public  coun- 
cils ;  a  spear  for  the  conflict  of  judicial  war  in  the  public  tribunals  ; 
a  sword  for  the  field  of  religious  and  moral  victory  in  the  pulpit. 


1 86  SELECTIONS 


FROM  HENRY  V. 

SHAKXSPBARB. 

ONCE  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more  ; 

Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead. 

In  peace  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 

As  modest  stillness,  and  humility ; 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favor'd  rage : 

Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect ; 

Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head 

Like  the  brass  cannon ;  let  the  brow  o'erwhelm  it 

As  fearfully  as  doth  a  galled  rock 

O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base, 

SwilTd  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 

Now  set  the  teeth  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide, 

Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 

To  his  full  height. 

HERVE   RIEL. 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 

PART  I. 

i. 

ON  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred  ninety-two, 

Did  the  English  fight  the  French  —  woe  to  France  ! 
And,  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  through  the  blue, 
Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of  sharks  pursue, 
Came  crowding  ship  on  ship  to  St.  Mal6  on  the  Ranee, 
With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 

n. 

'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,  with  the  victor  in  full  chase. 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great  ship,  Damfreville ; 


HERVE    KIEL  187 

Close  on  him  fled,  great  and  small, 
Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all ; 
And  they  signalled  to  the  place, 
"  Help  the  winners  of  a  race ! 

Get  us  guidance,  give  us  harbor,  take  us  quick  —  or,  quicker  still 
Here's  the  English  can  and  will !  " 

in. 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk  and  leaped  on  board ; 
"Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like  these  to  pass?" 

laughed  they ; 
"  Rocks  to  starboard,  rocks  to  port,  all  the  passage  scarred  and 

scored, 
Shall  the  '  Formidable '  here,  with  her  twelve  and  eighty  guns, 

Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single  narrow  way, 
Trust  to  enter  where  'tis  ticklish  for  a  craft  of  twenty  tons, 
And  with  flow  at  full  beside  ? 
Now  't  is  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  mooring?     Rather  say, 
While  rock  stands  or  water  runs, 
Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay ! " 

rv. 

Then  was  called  a  council  straight ; 
Brief  and  bitter  the  debate  ; 

"  Here's  the  English  at  our  heels ;  would  you  have  them  take  in  tow 
All  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern  and  bow, 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  sound?  — 
Better  run  the  ships  aground ! " 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech,) 
"  Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 

Let  the  captains  all  and  each 

Shove  ashore,  then  blow  up,  burn  the  vessels  on  the  beach  ! 
France  must  undergo  her  fate." 

v. 

"  Give  the  word ! "  —  But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard ; 

For  up  stood,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck  amid  all  these  — 
A  captain?    A  lieutenant?    A  mate  — first,  second,  third? 


1 88  SELECTIONS 

No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 
With  his  betters  to  compete  ? 

But  a  simple  Breton  sailor  pressed  by  Tourville  for  the  fleet  — 
A  poor  coasting  pilot  he,  Herve  Kiel,  the  Croisickese. 

VI. 

And  "  What  mockery  or  malice  have  we  here  ?"  cries  Herv6  Kiel ; 
"Are  you   mad,  you   Malouins?     Are   you   cowards,  fools,  or 

rogues  ? 

Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals,  me  who  took  the  soundings,  tell 
On  my  fingers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every  swell, 

'Twixt  the  offing  here  and  Greve,  where  the  river  disembogues  ? 
Are  you  bought  by  English  gold?     Is  it  loVe  the  lying's  for? 
Morn  and  eve,  night  and  day, 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay, 
Entered  free  and  anchored  fast  at  the  foot  of  Solidor. 

Burn  the  fleet,  and  ruin  France?    That  were  worse  than  fifty 

Hogues ! 

Sirs,  they  know  I  speak  the  truth !    Sirs,  believe  me  there's  a 
way! 

VTI. 

"  Only  let  me  lead  the  line, 
Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer, 
Get  this  '  Formidable '  clear, 
Make  the  others  follow  mine, 

And  I  lead  them  most  and  least  by  a  passage  I  know  well, 
Right  to  Solidor,  past  Greve, 

And  there  lay  them  safe  and  sound ; 
And  if  one  ship  misbehave  — 

Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground  — 
Why,  I've  nothing  but  my  life  ;  here's  my  head  !  "  cries  Hervd  Kiel. 

VIII. 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 
"  Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great ! 

Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squadron ! "  cried  its  chief. 
"  Captains,  give  the  sailor  place ! 
He  is  admiral,  in  brief." 


HERVE   KIEL  189 

Still  the  north  wind,  by  God's  grace ; 
See  the  noble  fellow's  face 
As  the  big  ship,  with  a  bound, 
Clears  the  entry  like  a  hound, 
Keeps  the  passage  as  its  inch  of  way  were  the  wiae  seas  profound ! 

IX. 

See,  safe  through  shoal  and  rock, 
How  they  follow  in  a  flock ! 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates  the  ground, 

Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief! 
The  peril,  see,  is  past, 
All  are  harbored  to  the  last, 

And  just  as  Herve'  Kiel  hollas,  "  Anchor! "  —  sure  as  fate, 
Up  the  English  come,  too  late. 


PART  II. 


So  the  storm  subsides  to  calm ; 

They  see  the  green  trees  wave 

On  the  heights  o'erlooking  Greve ; 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm, 
"  Just  our  rapture  to  enhance, 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay, 
Gnash  their  teeth  and  glare  askance 

As  they  cannonade  away ! 

'Neath  rampired  Solidor  pleasant  riding  on  the  Ranee  ! " 
Now  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  captain's  countenance ! 

ii. 

Outburst  all  with  one  accord, 
"  This  is  Paradise  for  hell ! 
Let  France,  let  France's  king, 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing ! " 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 
Kiel!" 


SELECTIONS 

As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more, 

Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 

In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes  — 
Just  the  same  man  as  before. 

ill. 

Then  said  Damfreville  :  "  My  friend, 
I  must  speak  out  at  the  end, 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard ; 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  lips ; 
You  have  saved  the  king  his  ships, 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
Faith,  our  sun  was  near  eclipse ! 
Demand  whate'er  you  will, 
France  remains  your  debtor  still. 
Ask  to  heart's  content,  and  have !  or  my  name's  not  Damfreville." 

IV. 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 
On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke, 
As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 
Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue : 
"  Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say, 
Since  on  board  the  duty's  done, 

And  from  Mal6  Roads  to  Croisic  Point,  what  is  it  but  a  run? — 
Since  'tis  ask  and  have,  I  may  — 

Since  the  others  go  ashore  — 
Come  !    A  good  old  holiday ! 

Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,  whom  I  call  the  Belle  Aurore  ! " 
That  he  asked  ;  and  that  he  got  —  nothing  more- 

v. 

Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost ; 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisic  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell ; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 
On  a  single  fishing-smack, 

In  memory  of  the  man  but  for  whom  had  gone  to  wrack 
All  that  France  saved  from  the  fight  whence  England  bore  the 
bell. 


HAMLET'S  ADVICE  TO  THE  PLAYERS  191 

VI. 

Go  to  Paris  ;  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank  ; 

You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to  Herve  Kiel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Herve  Kiel,  accept  my  verse ! 
In  my  verse,  Herve  Riel,  do  thou  once  more 
Save  the  squadron,  honor  France,  love  thy  wife  the  Belle  Aurore  ! 


HAMLET'S   ADVICE   TO   THE   PLAYERS. 

SHAKBSPKARX. 

SPEAK  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced  it  to  you,  trip- 
pingly on  the  tongue.  But  if  you  mouth  it,  as  many  of  our  players 
do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier  had  spoken  my  lines.  And  do  not 
saw  the  air  too  much  with  your  hands,  but  use  all  gently ;  for,  in 
the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and,  as  I  may  say,  whirlwind  of  your 
passion,  you  must  beget  a  temperance  that  will  give  it  smoothness. 
Oh !  it  offends  me  to  the  soul  to  hear  a  robustious,  periwig-pated 
fellow  tear  a  passion  to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of  the 
groundlings ;  who  (for  the  most  part)  are  capable  of  nothing  but 
inexplicable  dumb-shows  and  noise.  Pray  you  avoid  it. 

Be  not  too  tame,  either ;  but  let  your  own  discretion  be  your 
tutor.  Suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the  action,  with 
this  special  observance,  that  you  o'erstep  not  the  modesty  of 
nature ;  for  anything  so  overdone  is  from  the  purpose  of  playing ; 
whose  end  is,  to  hold,  as  it  were,  the  mirror  up  to  nature ;  to  show 
virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the  very  age  and 
body  of  the  times,  their  form  and  pressure.  Now,  this  overdone, 
or  come  tardy  oif,  though  it  may  make  the  unskilful  laugh,  cannot 
but  make  the  judicious  grieve ;  the  censure  of  one  of  which  must, 
in  your  allowance,  overweigh  a  whole  theatre  of  others.  Oh  !  there 
are  players  that  I  have  seen  play,  and  heard  others  praise,  and  that, 


SELECTIONS 

highly,  —  not  to  speak  it  profanely,  —  who,  having  neither  the  ac- 
cent of  Christian,  nor  the  gait  of  Christian,  pagan,  nor  man,  have 
so  strutted  and  bellowed,  that  I  have  thought  some  of  nature's  jour- 
neymen had  made  men,  and  not  made  them  well ;  they  imitated 
humanity  so  abominably. 


OTHELLO'S   DEFENCE. 

SHAKBSFXARX. 
I. 

MOST  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signiors, 
My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 
That  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter, 
It  is  most  true ;  true,  I  have  married  her : 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more. 

n. 

Rude  am  I  in  speech, 

And  little  bless'd  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace : 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  hath  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  used 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field, 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak, 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle, 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause 
In  speaking  for  myself.     Yet,  by  your  gracious  patience, 
I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver, 
Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  what  drugs,  what  charms, 
What  conjuration  and  what  mighty  magic, 
For  such  proceedings  I  am  charged  withal, 
I  won  his  daughter  with. 


Her  father  loved  me ;  oft  invited  me ; 
Still  question'd  me  the  story  of  my  life, 
From  year  to  year,  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes, 
That  I  have  pass'd. 


OTHELLO  S    DEFENCE 

I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days, 

To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it ; 

Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances, 

Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 

Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  i'  the  imminent  deadly  breach, 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe 

And  sold  to  slavery,  of  my  redemption  thence 

And  with  it  all  my  travels'  history. 

IV. 

These  things  to  hear 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  : 
But  still  the  house-affairs  would  draw  her  thence : 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  despatch, 
She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse  :  which  I  observing, 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour,  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate, 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  intentively. 

v. 

I  did  consent, 

And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears, 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 
That  my  youth  suffer'd.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs : 
She  swore,  in  faith,  'twas  strange,  'twas  passing  strange, 
'T  was  pitiful,  't  was  wondrous  pitiful : 
She  wish'd  she  had  not  heard  it,  yet  she  wish'd 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man : 

VI. 

She  thank'd  me, 

And  bade  me  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.     Upon  this  hint  I  spake : 
She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd, 
And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used.     . 


194  SELECTIONS 


THE   SCHOLAR  IN  A   REPUBLIC. 

WBNDKLL  PHILLIPS. 

This  extract  is  taken  from  the  oration  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  of  Harvard 

^College. 

STANDING  on  Saxon  foundations,  and  inspired,  perhaps,  in  some 
degree,  by  Latin  example,  we  have  done  what  no  race,  no  nation, 
no  age,  had  before  dared  even  to  try.  We  have  founded  a  republic 
on  the  unlimited  suffrage  of  the  millions.  We  have  actually  worked 
out  the  problem  that  man,  as  God  created  him,  may  be  trusted  with 
self-government.  We  have  shown  the  world  that  a  church  with- 
out a  bishop,  and  a  state  without  a  king,  is  an  actual,  real,  everyday 
possibility.  .  .  . 

We  have  not  only  established  a  new  measure  of  the  possibilities 
of  the  race :  we  have  laid  on  strength,  wisdom,  and  skill,  a  new  re- 
sponsibility. Grant  that  each  man's  relations  to  God  and  his 
neighbor  are  exclusively  his  own  concern,  and  that  he  is  entitled 
to  all  the  aid  that  will  make  him  the  best  judge  of  these  relations ; 
that  the  people  are  the  source  of  all  power,  and  their  measureless 
capacity  the  lever  of  all  progress ;  their  sense  of  right  the  court  of 
final  appeal  in  civil  affairs ;  the  institutions  they  create  the  only 
ones  any  power  has  a  right  to  impose ;  that  the  attempt  of  one  class 
to  prescribe  the  law,  the  religion,  the  morals,  or  the  trade  of  an- 
other is  both  unjust  and  harmful,  —  and  the  Wycliffe  and  Jefferson 
of  history  mean  this  if  they  mean  anything,  —  then,  when,  in  1867, 
Parliament  doubled  the  English  franchise,  Robert  Lowe  was  right 
in  affirming,  amid  the  cheers  of  the  House,  "  Now  the  first  interest 
and  duty  of  every  Englishman  is  to  educate  the  masses  —  our 
masters."  Then,  whoever  sees  farther  than  his  neighbor  is  that 
neighbor's  servant  to  lift  him  to  such  higher  level.  Then,  power, 
ability,  influence,  character,  virtue,  are  only  trusts  with  which  to 
serve  our  time. 
We  all  agree  in  the  duty  of  scholars  to  help  those  less  favored 


THE    SCHOLAR   IN    A    REPUBLIC  IQ5 

in  life,  and  that  this  duty  of  scholars  to  educate  the  mass  is  still 
more  imperative  in  a  republic,  since  a  republic  trusts  the  State 
wholly  to  the  intelligence  and  moral  sense  of  the  people.  The 
experience  of  the  last  forty  years  shows  every  man  that  law  has  no 
atom  of  strength,  either  in  Boston  or  New  Orleans,  unless,  and 
only  so  far  as,  public  opinion  endorses  it ;  and  that  your  life,  goods, 
and  good  name  rest  on  the  moral  sense,  self-respect,  and  law-abid- 
ing mood  of  the  men  that  walk  the  streets,  and  hardly  a  whit  on 
the  provisions  of  the  statute  book.  Come,  any  one  of  you,  out- 
side of  the  ranks  of  popular  men,  and  you  will  not  fail  to  find  it  so. 
Easy  men  dream  that  we  live  under  a  government  of  law.  Absurd 
mistake  !  We  live  under  a  government  of  men  and  newspapers. 
Your  first  attempt  to  stem  dominant  and  keenly  cherished  opinions 
will  reveal  this  to  you. 

But  what  is  education?  Of  course  it  is  not  book-learning. 
Book-learning  does  not  make  five  per  cent  of  that  mass  of  common 
sense  that  "runs"  the  world,  transacts  its  business,  secures  its 
progress,  trebles  its  power  over  nature,  works  out  in  the  long  run 
a  rough,  average  justice,  wears  away  the  world's  restraints,  and 
lifts  off  its  burdens.  The  ideal  Yankee,  who  "  has  more  brains  in 
his  hand  than  others  have  in  their  skulls,"  is  not  a  scholar ;  and 
two  thirds  of  the  inventions  that  enable  France  to  double  the 
world's  sunshine,  and  make  Old  and  New  England  the  workshops 
of  the  world,  did  not  come  from  colleges  or  from  minds  trained  in 
the  schools  of  science,  but  struggled  up,  forcing  their  way  against 
giant  obstacles,  from  the  irrepressible  instinct  of  untrained  natural 
power.  Her  workshops,  not  her  colleges,  made  England,  for  a 
while,  the  mistress  of  the  world  •;  and  the  hardest  job  her  workman 
had  was  to  make  Oxford  willing  he  should  work  his  wonders.  .  .  . 

I  urge  on  college-bred  men,  that,  as  a  class,  they  fail  in  republi- 
can duty  when  they  allow  others  to  lead  in  the  agitation  of  the 
great  social  questions  which  stir  and  educate  the  age.  Agitation  is 
an  old  word  with  a  new  meaning.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  first  Eng- 


196  SELECTIONS 

lish  leader  who  felt  himself  its  tool,  defined  it  to  be  "  marshalling 
the  conscience  of  a  nation  to  mould  its  laws."  Its  means  are 
reason  and  argument,  —  no  appeal  to  arms.  Wait  patiently  for  the 
growth  of  public  opinion.  That  secured,  then  every  step  taken  is 
taken  forever.  An  abuse  once  removed  never  reappears  in  history. 
The  freer  a  nation  becomes,  the  more  utterly  democratic  in  its  form, 
the  more  need  of  this  outside  agitation.  Parties  and  sects  laden 
with  the  burden  of  securing  their  own  success  cannot  afford  to  risk 
new  ideas.  "  Predominant  opinions,"  said  Disraeli,  *'  are  the 
opinions  of  a  class  that  is  vanishing."  The  agitator  must  stand 
outside  of  organizations,  with  no  bread  to  earn,  no  candidate  to 
elect,  no  party  to  save,  no  object  but  truth,  —  to  tear  a  question 
open,  and  riddle  it  with  light.  .  .  . 

Let  us  inaugurate  a  new  departure,  recognize  that  we  are  afloat 
on  the  current  of  Niagara,  —  eternal  vigilance  the  condition  of  our 
safety,  —  that  we  are  irrevocably  pledged  to  the  world  not  to  go 
back  to  bolts  and  bars,  —  could  not  if  we  would,  and  would  not  if 
we  could.  Never  again  be  ours  the  fastidious  scholarship  that 
shrinks  from  rude  contact  with  the  masses.  Very  pleasant  it  is  to 
sit  high  up  in  the  world's  theatre  and  criticise  the  ungraceful  strug- 
gles of  the  gladiators,  shrug  one's  shoulders  at  the  actor's  harsh 
cries,  and  let  every  one  know  that  but  for  "  this  villainous  saltpetre 
you  would  yourself  have  been  a  soldier."  But  Bacon  says,  "In  the 
theatre  of  man's  life,  God  and  his  angels  only  should  be  lookers- 
on."  Sin  is  not  taken  out  of  man  as  Eve  was  out  of  Adam,  by  put- 
ting him  to  sleep.  "  Very  beautiful,"  says  Richter,  "  is  the  eagle 
when  he  floats  with  outstretched  wings  aloft  in  the  clear  blue ;  but 
sublime  when  he  plunges  down  through  the  tempest  to  his  eyrie 
on  the  cliff,  where  his  unfledged  young  ones  dwell  and  are  star- 
ving." If  the  Alps,  piled  in  cold  and  silence,  be  the  emblem  of 
despotism,  we  joyfully  take  the  ever-restless  ocean  for  ours,  — 
only  pure  because  never  still.  .  .  . 

To  be  as  good  as  our  fathers,  we  must  be  better.     They  silenced 


THE    PROBLEM    OF   THE    NEW    SOUTH  197 

their  fears  and  subdued  their  prejudices,  inaugurating  free  speech 
and  equality  with  no  precedent  on  the  file.  Europe  shouted, 
"Madmen! "and  gave  us  forty  years  for  the  shipwreck.  With 
serene  faith  they  persevered.  Let  us  rise  to  their  level.  Crush 
appetite  and  prohibit  temptation  if  it  rots  great  cities.  Intrench 
labor  in  sufficient  bulwarks  against  that  wealth,  which,  without  the 
tenfold  strength  of  modern  incorporation,  wrecked  the  Grecian  and 
Roman  States ;  and,  with  a  sterner  effort  still,  summon  women  into 
civil  life  as  re-enforcement  to  our  laboring  ranks  in  the  effort  to 
make  our  civilization  a  success. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

H.  W.  GRADY. 

This  extract  is  taken  from  Mr.  Grady's  speech  before  the  Merchants'  Association 
of  Boston,  December,  1889.     (By  permission  of  Cassell  Pub.  Co.,  N.Y.) 

MY  people,  your  brothers  in  the  South  —  brothers  in  blood,  in 
destiny,  in  all  that  is  best  in  our  past  and  future  —  are  so  beset 
with  this  problem  that  their  very  existence  depends  upon  the  right 
solution.  Nor  are  they  wholly  to  blame  for  its  presence.  The 
slave-ships  of  the  Republic  sailed  from  your  ports  —  the  slaves 
worked  in  our  fields.  You  will  not  defend  the  traffic,  nor  I  the 
institution.  But  I  do  hereby  declare  that  in  its  wise  and  humane 
administration  in  lifting  the  slave  to  heights  of  which  he  had  not 
dreamed  in  savage  home,  and  giving  him  a  happiness  he  had  not 
found  in  freedom,  our  fathers  left  their  sons  an  excellent  heritage. 
In  the  stress  of  war,  this  institution  was  lost.  I  thank  God  as 
heartily  as  you  do  that  human  slavery  is  gone  forever  from  Ameri- 
can soil.  But  the  freedman  remains  —  with  him,  a  problem  with- 
out precedent  or  parallel.  Note  the  appalling  conditions.  Two 
utterly  dissimilar  races  on  the  same  soil,  with  equal  political  rights, 
almost  equal  in  numbers,  but  terribly  unequal  in  intellect  and  re- 
sponsibility;  each  pledged  against  fusion  —  one  for  a  century  in 


198  SELECTIONS 

servitude  to  the  other,  and  freed  at  last  by  a  destructive  war ;  the 
experiment  sought  by  neither,  but  approached  by  both  with  doubt 
—  these  are  the  conditions.  Under  these,  adverse  at  every  point, 
we  are  requested  to  carry  these  two  races  in  peace  and  honor  to  the 
end. 

Never,  sir,  has  such  a  task  been  given  to  mortal  stewardship. 
Never  before  in  this  Republic  has  the  white  race  divided  on  the 
rights  of  an  alien  race.  The  red  man  was  cut  down  as  a  weed, 
because  he  hindered  the  way  of  the  American  citizen.  The  yellow 
man  was  shut  out  of  this  Republic  because  he  was  an  alien  and 
inferior.  The  red  man  was  owner  of  the  land,  the  yellow  man 
highly  civilized  and  assimilable ;  but  they  hindered  both  sections, 
and  they  are  gone.  But  the  black  man,  affecting  but  one  section, 
is  clothed  with  every  privilege  of  government,  and  pinned  to  the 
soil,  and  my  people  commanded  to  make  good  at  any  hazard,  and 
at  any  cost,  his  full  and  equal  heirship  of  American  privilege  and 
prosperity. 

It  matters  not  that  every  other  race  has  been  routed,  or  ex- 
cluded, without  rhyme  or  reason.  It  matters  not  that  wherever  the 
whites  and  blacks  have  touched  in  any  era  or  in  any  clime,  there 
has  been  irreconcilable  violence.  It  matters  not  that  no  two  races, 
however  similar,  have  lived  anywhere  at  any  time  on  the  same  soil 
with  equal  right  in  peace !  In  spite  of  these  things,  we  are  com- 
manded to  make  this  change  of  American  policy,  which  has  not, 
perhaps,  changed  American  prejudice.  .  .  .  We  do  not  shrink  from 
this  trial.  .  .  .  The  love  we  feel  for  that  race,  you  can't  measure 
nor  comprehend.  As  I  attest  it  here,  the  spirit  of  my  old  black 
mammy  from  her  home  up  there  looks  down  to  bless ;  and  through 
the  tumult  of  this  night  steals  the  sweet  music  of  her  croonings,  as 
thirty  years  ago  she  held  me  in  her  black  arms  and  led  me  smiling 
into  sleep.  This  scene  vanishes  as  I  speak,  and  I  catch  the  vision 
of  an  old  Southern  home  with  its  lofty  pillars  and  its  white  pigeons 
fluttering  down  through  the  golden  sunshine.  I  see  a  woman  with 


THE    PROBLEM    OF   THE    NEW    SOUTH  199 

strained  and  anxious  face,  and  children  alert,  yet  helpless.  I  see 
night  come  down  with  its  dangers  and  its  apprehensions ;  and  in  a 
big  homely  room,  I  feel  on  my  tired  head  the  touch  of  loving 
hands  —  now  worn  and  wrinkled,  but  fairer  to  me  yet  than  hands  of 
mortal  woman,  and  stronger  yet  to  lead  than  hand  of  man  —  as 
they  lay  a  mother's  blessing  there  while  at  her  knees  —  the  truest 
altar  I  yet  have  found.  I  thank  God  she  is  safe  in  her  sanctuary ; 
because  her  slaves,  sentinel  in  the  silent  cabin,  or  guard  at  her 
chamber  door,  put  a  black  man's  loyalty  between  her  and  danger. 
I  catch  another  vision  —  the  cries  of  battle,  a  soldier  struck, 
staggering,  fallen.  I  see  a  slave  scuffling  through  the  smoke,  wind- 
ing his  black  arms  about  the  fallen  form,  reckless  of  the  hurtling 
death  ;  bending  his  trusty  face  to  catch  the  words  that  tremble  on 
the  stricken  lips  ;  so  wrestling  meantime  with  agony  that  he  would 
lay  down  his  life  in  his  master's  stead.  I  see  him  by  the  weary 
bedside  ministering  with  uncomplaining  patience,  praying  with  all 
his  humble  heart  that  God  will  lift  his  master  up,  until  death  comes 
in  mercy  and  in  honor  to  still  the  soldier's  agony  and  seal  the 
soldier's  life.  I  see  him  by  the  open  grave,  mute,  motionless,  un- 
covered, suffering  for  the  death  of  him  who  in  life  fought  against 
freedom.  I  see  him  when  the  mound  is  heaped,  and  the  great 
drama  of  his  life  is  closed,  turn  away;  and  with  downcast  eyes  and 
uncertain  step,  start  out  into  new  and  strange  fields,  faltering,  sigh- 
ing, but  moving  on  until  his  shambling  figure  is  lost  in  the  light 
of  this  brighter  and  better  day.  And  from  the  grave  comes  a 
voice,  saying,  "  Follow  him  !  Put  your  arms  about  him  in  his 
need,  even  as  he  put  his  arm  about  me.  Be  his  friend  as  he  was 
mine ! "  And  out  into  the  new  world,  strange  to  me  as  to  him, 
dazzled,  bewildered  —  both  I  follow.  And  may  God  forget  my 
people  when  they  forget  these  ! 


2OO  SELECTIONS 


THE   SCHOLAR  IN   POLITICS. 

GEORGH  WILLIAM  CURTIS. 
Inserted  by  permission  of  Harper  Bros.,  N.  Y. 

EVERY  educated  man  is  aware  ofr  a  profound  popular  distrust  of 
the  courage  and  sagacity  of  the  educated  class.  "  Franklin  and 
Lincoln  are  good  enough  for  us,"  exclaims  this  jealous  scepticism ; 
as  if  Franklin  and  Lincoln  did  not  laboriously  repair  by  vigorous 
study  the  want  of  early  opportunity.  The  scholar  is  denounced 
as  a  coward.  Humanity  falls  among  thieves,  we  are  told ;  and  the 
college  Levite,  the  educated  Pharisee,  passes  by  on  the  other  side. 

Gentlemen,  is  this  humiliating  arraignment  true?  does  the  edu- 
cated class  of  America  deserve  this  condemnation?  Here  in 
America,  undoubtedly  New  England  has  inspired  and  moulded  our 
national  life.  But  if  New  England  has  led  the  Union,  what  has 
led  New  England?  Her  scholarly  class.  Her  educated  men.  And 
our  Roger  Williams  gave  the  keynote.  **  He  has  broached  and 
divulged  new  and  dangerous  opinions  against  the  authority  of 
magistrates,"  said  Massachusetts,  as  she  banished  him.  A  century 
later  his  dangerous  opinions  had  captured  Massachusetts.  Young 
Sam  Adams,  taking  his  Master's  degree  at  Cambridge,  argued  that  it 
was  lawful  to  resist  the  supreme  magistrate,  if  the  State  could  not 
otherwise  be  preserved.  Seven  years  afterwards,  Jonathan  May  hew 
preached  in  Boston  the  famous  sermon  which  Thornton  called  the 
morning  gun  of  the  Revolution,  applying  to  the  political  situation 
the  principles  of  Roger  Williams.  The  New  England  pulpit  echoed 
and  re-echoed  that  morning  gun;  and  twenty-five  years  later  its 
warning  broke  into  the  rattle  of  musketry  at  Lexington  and  Con- 
cord and  the  glorious  thunder  of  Bunker  Hill. 

It  was  a  son  of  Harvard,  James  Otis,  who  proposed  the  assem- 
bly of  an  American  Congress,  without  asking  the  King's  leave.  It 
was  a  son  of  Yale,  John  Morin  Scott,  who  declared  that  if  taxa- 


THE   SCHOLAR    IN    POLITICS  2OI 

tion  without  representation  were  to  be  enforced,  the  Colonies  ought 
to  separate  from  England.  I  do  not  forget  the  Virginian  tongue- 
of-flame,  Patrick  Henry,  or  the  minute-men  at  Concord.  But 
everywhere  they  were  educated  men,  who,  in  the  pulpit,  on  the 
platform,  and  through  the  press,  conducted  the  mighty  preliminary 
argument  of  the  Revolution,  and  defended  liberty,  until  at  last  the 
King  surrendered  to  the  people,  and  educated  America  had  saved 
constitutional  liberty. 

Daily  the  educated  class  is  denounced  as  impracticable  and 
visionary.  But  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  is  the  work  of 
American  scholars ;  for  of  the  fifty-five  members  of  the  Constitu- 
tional Convention,  thirty-three  were  graduates.  And  the  eight 
leaders  of  the  great  debate  were  all  college  men. 

For  nearly  a  century  after,  the  supreme  question  of  the  govern- 
ment was  the  one  which  Jefferson  had  raised :  "Is  the  Union  a 
league  or  a  nation  ? "  That  was  a  debate  which  devoured  every 
other ;  and  in  the  tremendous  contention,  as  in  the  war  that  fol- 
lowed, was  the  American  scholar  recreant  and  dumb?  I  do  not  ask 
whether  the  educated  or  any  other  class  alone  maintained  the  fight. 
I  make  no  exclusive  claim.  But  was  the  great  battle  fought  while 
we  and  our  guild  stood  passive  and  hostile  by? 

The  slavery  agitation  began  with  the  moral  appeal ;  and  as  in 
the  dawn  of  the  Revolution,  educated  America  spoke  in  the  bugle- 
note  of  James  Otis,  so  in  the  anti-slavery  agitation,  rings  out  the 
clear  voice  of  a  son  of  Otis's  college,  Wendell  Phillips.  In  Con- 
gress, the  commanding  voice  for  freedom  was  that  of  the  most 
learned,  experienced,  and  courageous  of  American  statesmen,  the 
voice  of  a  scholar  and  an  old  college  professor,  John  Quincy 
Adams.  The  burning  words  of  Whittier  scattered  the  sacred  fire ; 
Longfellow  and  Lowell  mingled  their  songs  with  his :  and  Emerson 
gave  to  the  cause  the  loftiest  scholarly  heart  in  the  Union.  When 
the  national  debate  was  angriest,  while  others  bowed  and  bent 
and  broke  around  him,  the  form  of  Charles  Sumner  stood  erect. 


2O2  SELECTIONS 

"  I  am  only  six  weeks  behind  you,"  said  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
Western  frontiersman  to  the  New  England  scholar;  and  along 
the  path  that  the  scholar  blazed  in  the  wild  wilderness  of  civil  war, 
the  path  of  emancipation  and  the  constitutional  equality  of  all  citi- 
zens, his  country  followed  fast  to  union,  peace,  and  prosperity. 

It  would  indeed  be  a  sorrowful  confession  for  this  day  and  this 
assembly  to  own  that  experience  proves  the  air  of  the  college  to 
be  suffocating  to  generous  thought  and  heroic  action.  It  is  the 
educated  voice  of  the  country  which  teaches  patience  in  politics, 
and  strengthens  the  conscience  of  the  individual  citizen,  by  show- 
ing that  servility  to  a  majority  is  as  degrading  as  servility  to  a 
sultan. 

Brethren,  here  on  the  old  altar  of  fervid  faith  and  boundless  anti- 
cipation, let  us  pledge  ourselves  once  more,  that  as  the  courage 
and  energy  of  educated  men  fired  the  morning  gun,  and  led  the 
contest  of  the  Revolution,  founded  and  framed  the  Union,  and 
purifying  it  as  with  fire,  have  maintained  the  national  life  to  this 
hour,  so,  day  by  day,  we  will  do  our  part  to  lift  America  above  the 
slough  of  mercenary  politics  and  the  cunning  snares  of  trade, 
steadily  forward  toward  the  shining  heights,  which  the  hopes  of 
its  nativity  foretold. 

HYDER  ALPS   REVENGE. 

BURKE. 

I.  WHEN  at  length  Hyder  AH  found  that  he  had  to  do  with 
men  who  either  would  sign  no  convention,  or  whom  no  treaty  and 
no  signature  could  bind,  and  who  were  the  determined  enemies  of 
human  intercourse  itself,  he  decreed  to  make  the  country,  pos- 
sessed by  these  incorrigible  and  predestinated  criminals,  a  memor- 
able example  to  mankind.  He  resolved,  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of 
a  mind  capacious  of  such  things,  to  leave  the  whole  Carnatic  an 
everlasting  monument  of  vengeance,  and  to  put  perpetual  desola- 


HYDER   ALI  S   REVENGE  20$ 

tion,  as  a  barrier  between  him  and  those  against  whom  the  faith 
which  holds  the  moral  elements  of  the  world  together  was  no  pro- 
tection. 

2.  He  became  at  length  so  confident  of  his  force,  so  collected  in 
his  might,  that  he  made  no  secret  whatsoever  of  his  dreadful  reso- 
lution.     Having  terminated   his  disputes  with   every  enemy  and 
every  rival,  who  buried  their  mutual  animosities  in  their  common 
detestation  against  the  creditors  of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  he  drew 
from  every  quarter  whatever  a  savage   ferocity  could  add  to  his 
new  rudiments  in  the  art  of  destruction ;  and  compounding'  all  the 
materials  of  fury,  havoc,  and  desolation  into  one  black  cloud,  he 
hung  for  a  while  on  the  declivities  of  the  mountains.     Whilst  the 
authors  of  all  these  evils  were  idly  and  stupidly  gazing  on  this 
menacing  meteor,  which  blackened  all  their  horizon,  it  suddenly 
burst,  and  poured  down  the  whole  of  its  contents  upon  the  plains 
of  the  Carnatic. 

3.  Then  ensued  a  scene  of  woe,  the  like  of  which  no  eye  had 
seen,  no  heart  conceived,  and  of  which  no  tongue  can  adequately 
tell.     All  the  horrors  of  war  before  known  or  heard  of  were  mercy 
to  that  new  havoc.     A  storm  of  universal  fire  blasted  every  field, 
consumed  every  house,  destroyed  every  temple.     The  miserable 
inhabitants,  flying  from  their  flaming  villages,  in  part  were  slaugh- 
tered ;  others,  without  regard  to  sex,  to  age,  to  the  respect  of  rank 
or  sacredness  of  function,  —  fathers  torn  from  children,  husbands 
from  wives,  —  enveloped  in  a  whirlwind  of  cavalry,  and  amidst  the 
goading  spears  of  drivers,  and  the  trampling  of  pursuing  horses, 
were  swept  into  captivity  in  an  unknown  and  hostile  land.     Those 
who  were  able  to  evade  this  tempest  fled  to  the  walled  cities ;  but 
escaping  from  fire,  sword,  and  exile,  they  fell  into  the  jaws  of 
famine.     For  eighteen  months,  without  intermission,  this  destruc- 
tion raged  from  the  gates  of  Madras  to  the  gates  of  Tanjore ;  and 
so  completely  did  these  masters  of  their  art,  Hyder  Ali  and  his 
more  ferocious  son,  absolve  themselves  of  their  impious  vow,  that, 


2O4  SELECTIONS 

when  the  British  armies  traversed,  as  they  did,  the  Carnatic  for 
hundreds  of  miles  in  all  directions,  through  the  whole  line  of  their 
march  they  did  not  see  one  man,  not  one  woman,  not  one  child, 
not  one  four-footed  beast  of  any  description  whatever.  One  dead, 
uniform  silence  reigned  over  the  whole  region. 


HAVELOCK'S  HIGHLANDERS. 

W.  BROCK. 

THE  Highlanders  had  never  fought  in  that  quarter  of  India 
before,  and  their  character  was  unknown  to  the  foe.  Their  ad- 
vance has  been  described  by  spectators  as  a  beautiful  illustration 
of  the  power  of  discipline.  With  sloped  arms  and  rapid  tread, 
through  the  broken  and  heavy  lands,  and  through  the  well-directed 
fire  of  artillery  and  musketry,  linked  in  their  unfaltering  lines,  they 
followed  their  mounted  leaders,  the  mark  for  many  rifles.  They 
did  not  pause  to  fire ;  did  not  even  cheer.  No  sound  from  them  was 
heard  as  that  living  wall  came  on  and  on,  to  conquer  or  to  die. 
Now  they  are  near  the  village;  but  the  enemies  occupy  every  house, 
and  from  every  point  a  galling  fire  is  poured  on  them  from  the  heavy 
guns.  The  men  lie  down  till  the  iron  storm  passes  over.  It  was 
but  for  a  moment.  The  general  gave  the  word,  "Rise  up!  Ad- 
vance ! "  and  wild  cheers  rang  out  from  those  brave  lines,  wilder 
even  than  their  fatal  fire  within  a  hundred  yards;  and  the  pipes 
sounded  the  martial  pibroch,  heard  so  often  as  earth's  latest  music 
by  dying  men.  The  men  sprung  up  the  hill  covered  by  the  smoke 
of  their  crushing  volley,  almost  with  the  speed  of  their  own  bullets  ; 
over,  and  through  all  obstacles,  the  gleaming  bayonets  advanced. 
And  then  followed  those  moments  of  personal  struggle,  not  often 
protracted,  when  the  Mahratta  learned,  too  late  for  life,  the  power 
of  the  Northern  arm.  The  position  was  theirs.  All  that  stood 
between  them  and  the  guns  fled  the  field  or  was  cut  down.  Gen- 


HAVELOCK  S    HIGHLANDERS 


eral  Havelock  was  with  his  men.  Excited  by  the  scene,  some 
letter-writers  say  he  exclaimed,  "  Well  done,  Seventy-eight  !  You 
shall  be  my  own  regiment.  Another  charge  like  that  will  win  the 
day." 


INDEX 


Accent,  77. 

-(Esthetic,  29,  131. 

Alphabetic,  77. 

Analysis,  38,  83,  140. 

Aphasia,  35. 

Associated  ideas,  44,  45. 

Attention,  28,  37,  38,  68,  69. 

Atmosphere,  45,  48,  141 ;  drill-room,  53. 

Audience,  52,  64,  68. 

Bain,  Alex.,  27. 
Beecher,  H.  W.,  3. 
Bell,  Sir  Chas.,  117. 
Bolton,  T.  L.,  107. 

Breathing,  kinds  of,  94;  diaphragmatic, 
95 ;  controlled,  96. 

Chest,  enlargement,  93 ;  in  expression,  126. 

Clearness,  27,  31. 

Climax,  114. 

Communication,  37,  70,  71. 

Confidential  attitude,  73. 

Content,  of  language,  34,  49. 

Conversational  delivery,  15,  16,  45,  65. 

Consonants,  77,  79. 

Control,  56,  60. 

Convincing,  50,  101. 

Creation,  14,  16,  21,  22. 

Darwin,  116. 

Declamatory,  15,  29,  65. 

Deference,  71. 

Deliberation,  66. 

DELIVERY,  Principles  of,  13 ;  extempora- 
neous, 14 ;  matter  of,  manner  of, 
17 ;  essentials  of,  27 ;  elements  of, 
31;  sources  of,  31;  word  delivery, 
35;  manuscript,  35;  fluency,  37;  dra- 
matic power  in,  53  ;  praxis  in,  140. 

Delsarte,  100,  119. 

Description,  145. 

Dialectic  tunes,  no. 

Diaphragm,  93,  95. 

Differentiation,  39. 

Dramatic,  30. 

Drift,  112. 


Earnestness,  50,  62. 

Ease,  56,  62,  65,  122,  131. 

Elegance,  29,  31,  131. 

Ellipsis,  42, 142. 

Ellis,  A.  J.,  133,  134. 

EMOTIONS,  mastery  of,  21 ;  growth  of,  46; 
Wundt's  classification  of,  47;  moods, 
48;  passions,  48;  emotional  atmos- 
phere, 48,  141 ;  emotional  movement, 
101;  inflection,  103;  expression  of 
(Darwin),  116. 

Emphasis,  80. 

Enebuske,  136. 

Enunciation,  76,  79. 

ESSENTIALS  OF  PUBLIC  SPEAKING,  27. 

Expression,  15,  18,  21,  35;  the  chest  in, 
126;  the  eye  in,  71 ;  the  feet  and  legs 
in,  127 ;  the  head  in,  129 ;  the  shoulder 
in,  129. 

Feelings,  control  of,  58. 
Feelings,  tone  of,  59. 
Foot-groups,  108. 
Force,  28,  31. 
Fronting  the  voice,  79,  98. 

GESTURE,  Darwin's  principles  of,  116; 
Sir  Charles  Bell's,  117;  Wundt's,  118; 
subjective,  118;  laws  of,  119;  faults 
of,  12 1 ;  relaxing  for,  122;  first  series 
of,  124;  second  series  of,  121;;  the 
chest  in,  126;  the  feet  and  legs  in, 
127;  the»hand  in,  127;  the  shoulder 
in,  129 ;  the  head  in,  129. 

Glottis,  stroke  of,  98. 
Good- will,  72. 
Grace,  34,  131. 
Grouping  or  phrasing,  82. 

Habit,  61. 

Harmony  of  function,  131. 

Hartwell,  136. 

Hill,  A.  S.,  28. 

Hortatory,  149. 

Hypnotism,  70. 


207 


268 


INDEX 


Ideas,  37,  41,  44. 
Imagination,  22,  43,  157. 
Imitative  modulation,  115. 
Individuality,  21,  22. 
Inflection,  103. 

Judgment,  40. 
Key,  112. 

Language,  32,  33 ;  social  function  of,  15. 

Lanier,  S.,  107. 

Loudness,  113. 

Logical  relations,  40,  141. 

Macaulay,  40. 
Magnetism,  69. 
Mcllvain,  33. 
Meaning,  35,  41. 
Melody  of  speech,  no,  ru. 
Mental  content,  34. 
Minor  tones,  105,  in. 
Misconceptions,  34. 
Modulation,  115. 
Monotone,  103,  105,  112. 
Monroe,  Dean  L.  6.,  4. 
Moods,  21,  59. 
Movement,  145. 

Narration,  145. 
NEW  ELOCUTION,  3. 
Newman,  J.  H.,  28. 
New  idea,  142. 
Noise,  64,  88. 

Objective  treatment,  n,  144. 
Oratory,  28,  50,  149. 

Parentheses,  40. 

Pause,  28,  42,  66,  81,  82,  84,  106,  114. 

Personality,  22. 

Persuasion,  28,  50,  102. 

Pharynx,  shaping,  97. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  3- 

Phrasing,  82. 

Physical  development,  136. 

Pitch,  80,  82,  100,  103,  no. 

Placing  the  voice,  97. 

Praxis,  145. 

Problems,  17,  20. 

Process,    predominant   and    subordinate, 

17;  complex,  29. 
Pronunciation,  132. 
Psychology,  3,  107,  116. 
Public  speaking,  13,  16,  20. 
Punctuation,  84. 


Quintilian,  28. 

Rate,  113. 

Reading,  distinguished,  13,  14,  16. 

Regeneration,  23. 

Reserved  force,  62. 

Rhetoric,  13. 

Rhythm,  14,  106,  157. 

Rhythmical  prose,  108. 

Rusk  in,  John,  33. 

Scansion,  107. 

SCHEME,  29,  31. 

Self -consciousness,  52. 

Semitone,  105. 

Silence,  44,  66,  106. 

Slides,  104. 

Soliloquy,  71. 

Sound,  88. 

SOURCES  OF  ORATORY,  31,  33. 

Speaking,  14. 

Specialization  of  Function,  63. 

Spontaneity,  37. 

Stress,  112. 

Strong  talk,  57. 

Stage  fright,  56;  "  Stagy,"  30. 

Subordinate  processes,  17,  20. 

Subjective  treatment,  18,  19,  140. 

Sweet,  H.,  133. 

Syllabication,  76. 

Sympathy,  72. 

Time,  113. 

Tones,  compound,  89 ;  musical,  90;  pure, 

98;  front,  98. 
Transition,  66,  83,  142. 
Types  for  praxis,  146,  149,  152,  157. 

Unity,  75,  131. 

Variety,  15,  65,  74. 

Verse,  109. 

Vitality,  physical,  54. 

Voice,  good  qualities  of,  86 ;  defects,  91 ; 
development,  92  ;  support,  93 ;  pla- 
cing, 97;  fronting,  98;  kinds  oft  99; 
types,  101 ;  agreeable,  135. 

Vowel,  moulding,  77 ;  list  of,  78. 

Will,  in  control,  60. 
Word  utterance,  35. 
Writing,  process  of,  35. 
Wundt,  118. 


INDEX  TO  SELECTIONS  IN  SHAKESPEARE 


I.     Hotspur  and  Vernon.     Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  IV.,  scene  i., 
lines  86-136. 

II.     The  Quarrel  of  Brutus  and  Cassius.     Julius  Caesar,  Act  IV., 
scene  iii.,  lines  1-124. 

III.  Hamlet's   Reflections   over   Yorick's   Skull.     Hamlet,  Act.  V., 

scene  i.,  lines  174-206. 

IV.  Brutus's  Oration.     Julius  Ccesar,  Act  III.,  scene  ii.,  lines  12-48. 
V.     Antony's  Oration.     Julius  Ccesar,  Act  III.,  scene  ii.,  lines  68- 

236. 

VI.     Hamlet  to  his  Mother.     Hamlet,  Act  III.,  scene  iv.,  lines  53-88. 
VII.     Macbeth  anticipating  the  Murder  of  Duncan.     Macbeth,  Act  I., 

scene  vii.,  lines  1-28. 
VIII.     Falstaff's  Description  of  the  Soldiers.     Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act 

IV.,  scene  ii.,  lines  12-54. 
IX.     Polonius's  Counsel  to  Laertes.     Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  iii.,  lines 

56-82. 
X.     Observation  on  Music.     Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V.,  scene  i., 

lines  54-89. 
XI.     York  on  Bolingbroke's  Reception.     King  Richard  II.,  Act  V., 

scene  ii.,  lines  8-40. 
XII.     Hotspur  to  the  King.     King  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  I.,  scene 

iii.,  lines  29-69. 
XIII.     Cordelia's  Gratitude  to  Kent.     King  Lear,  Act  IV.,  scene  vii., 

lines  1-99. 
XIV.     Court   Scene.     Merchant  of  Venice,  Act   IV.,    scene  i.,   lines 

168-262. 
XV.     The    Shepherdess'    Welcome.      The    Winter's    Tale,   Act    IV., 

scene  iv.,  lines  73-128  and  136-151. 

XVI.     Hamlet's  Grief.     Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  ii.,  lines  129-159. 

209 


210 


INDEX 


XVII.     The  Ghost's  Revelation.     Hamlet ',  Act  I.,  scene  v.,  lines  49-92. 
XVIII.     Hamlet's  Description  of  Man.     Hamlet,  Act  II.,  scene  ii.,  lines 

289-304. 

XIX.     Hamlet's  Soliloquy.     Hamlet,  Act  III.,  scene  i.,  lines  56-90. 
XX.     Hamlet  on  his  Hesitancy.     Hamlet,  Act  IV.,  scene  iv.,  lines 

31-66. 

XXI.     lago  on  lago.      Othello,  Act  I.,  scene  i.,  lines  42-66. 
XXII.     Othello's  Welcome  to  Desdemona.     Othello,  Act  II.,  scene  i., 
lines  179-189. 

XXIII.  Othello's  Resolution.     Othello,  Act  III.,  scene  iii.,  lines  175- 

192. 

XXIV.  Othello's  Reasons  for  the  Murder  of  Desdemona.      Othello,  Act 

V.,  scene  ii.,  lines  1-22. 

XXV.     Othello's  Defence.     Othello,  Act  V.,  scene  ii.,  lines  338-355. 
XXVI.     Horatio,   Hamlet,  and  Bernardo.     Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  ii., 

lines  159-212. 

XXVII.     Hotspur's  Anger.     King  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  I.,  scene  iii., 
lines  118-188. 


INDEX   TO  BIBLE   SELECTIONS 


I.  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount    .     . 

II.  Christ's  Testimony  concerning  John 

III.  Christ  reproves  the  Pharisees      .     . 
IV. 


Matt,  v.,  vi.,  vii. 

Matt.  xi. 

Matt,  xxiii.  13-39. 


Mary's  Hymn  of  Praise Luke  i.  46-55. 

V.     The  Prophecy  of  Zacharias Luke  i.  68-80 

VI.  The  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son      .     .     .  Luke  xv.  1 1-32. 

VII.  Christ  and  the  Woman  at  Jacob's  Well      .  John  iv. 

VIII.     Paul  on  Mars' Hill Acts  xvii.  22-31. 

IX.     Paul  before  Agrippa Acts  xxvi. 

X.     Exhortations Rom.  xii. 

XI.     Exhortation  to  Faith          Heb.  xi. 


INDEX 


211 


XII.  The  Book  with  Seven  Seals  ....  Rev.  v. 

XIII.  The  Destruction  of  Babylon  ....  Rev.  xix. 

XIV.  Jacob's  Blessing  to  his  Sons  ....  Gen.  xlix. 
XV.  The  Song  of  Moses Ex.  xv.  1-21. 

XVI.  The  Ten  Commandments Ex.  xx. 

XVII.  The  Majesty  of  God Deut.  xxxiii. 

XVIII.  David's  Lamentation  of  Saul  and  Jona- 
than      2  Sam.  i.  17-27. 

XIX.  The  Frailty  of  Life Job  xiv. 

XX.  The  Mighty  Works  of  God     .     ...  Job  xxxviii. 

XXI.  The  Reward  of  Righteousness    .     .     .  Psalm  i. 

XXII.  David's  Trust  in  God Psalm  xviii. 

XXIII.  David's  Confidence  in  God's  Favor      .  Psalm  xxiii. 

XXIV.  God's  Lordship  in  the  World      .     .     .  Psalm  xxiv. 
XXV.  The  Majesty  of  God Psalm  \.  1-15. 

XXVI.  The  Frailty  of  Human  Life    ....  Psalm  xc. 

XXVII.  Exhortation  to  fear  God Psalm  civ. 

XXVIII.  Psalm  of  Prayer  and  Praise    ....  Psalm  cxix. 

XXIX.  David  praiseth  God  for  his  Providence,  Psalm  cxxxix.  1-18. 

XXX.  Comfort  to  Jerusalem Isaiah  xl. 

XXXI.  Christ's  Suffering Isaiah  liii. 

XXXII.  The  Call  to  Faith  Isaiah  Iv. 


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